Phantasmagoria
by MissCrayons
Summary: "Love isn't finding a perfect person. It's seeing an imperfect person perfectly." - Before Christine Daae, there was her. This is the tale of a girl who fell for Erik long before he ever set foot in that opera house.
1. Chapter 1

"Often it is the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them."

_ - Hermann Hesse_

**Rome - **_**1849**_

By the time I turned seventeen I was quite resolved to the fact that nothing exceptional would ever happen to me. My life was as perfectly ordinary as you could get. I had grown up with a small family in a humble home in Rome, we did not have much but my brother, mother, father and I were seemingly happy. I have so many fond memories of my childhood that I was quite determined that I had had my share of happy memories for my lifetime and now all that awaited me was routine and mediocrity. When I was twelve my mother had fallen in and died very suddenly, this ended my father and down he spun into an alcohol dependency. In the five years since he has become an entirely different man from the happy and attentive father I grew up with, in his place was a violent and depressed stranger. On the rare occasion he would get a job his money went straight back into his liquid dependency and my brother and I slowly grew used to having to steel food to eat. My one potential outlet was the thought that one day I would be rescued from this life and forge my own way with a husband that would remind me of how my father used to be. You would think the devastating effect my mother's death had on him would put me off thoughts of love and yet I always felt there was something poetic about the fact his world ended with her. It made it nigh impossible for me to hate him; though that was not something my brother struggled with. Of course the older man never laid a hand on me it was my brother that bore the brunt of his temper, the brother who had spent his childhood being tormented by an older sister was now the only thing that stood between me and the violent beatings.

The house which we had once loved was now a dark and miserable place which we tried to avoid at all costs, which was how I came to be wondering along the banks of the Tiber that fateful night. I hadn't meant to steal; it was not something I enjoyed or an act which ever failed to fill me with a sense of guilt. But having eaten nothing in days can seriously affect your judgement, the last scraps of food we had I had sacrificed to Arturo, my brother in the hopes that it would somehow convey my gratitude and sorrow over his black eyes and swollen face. So when he brushed passed me without even noticing that I was walking next to him it was almost involuntary that my hand reached into the depths of that cloak. It happened before I could even fully comprehend the situation, firm, gloved fingers wrapped around my slim wrist tightly as he near lifted me clear off my feet with one grasp. My back was to the river and for a horrible moment I thought he was going to push me into the cold, polluted city waters. Then as he looked down at me I was quite sure I would rather get wet than stare into those eyes, I saw his eyes because they were the only thing of his face that was visible. The rest was entirely hidden behind a white mask. Trembling from both the shame of getting caught and the fear of what he was going to do to me I stood there, feet half off the ground as his hand held painfully to my wrist.

"I-I'm sorry" I stuttered pathetically in my native Italian, I must have looked quite the wretch stood there. Caught red handed, my dress was patched and altered beyond any normal recognition of its former beauty. I only owned four dressed, three of which I had been measured for when I was twelve. I'm sure I don't need to tell you of the changes that happen from the age of twelve up to eighteen, but having no other means of clothing I had little choice but to alter them myself. I am a poor seamstress and an even poorer designer and would have probably looked more appealing had I worn rags. My hair is pale yellow, a far cry from the majority of the city which heralds dark locks as the epitome of beauty in a woman, and was hanging in limp somewhat dirty curls around my face and shoulders. Dark locks and soft voluminous curves, which I might have had, were I not so desperate for food. I was not a waif of a girl but I knew that my hips did not flare quite like other girls, nor did my bosoms heave beneath my dress when I drew breath. My eyes were dark but despite the Italian blood that flowed undiluted through my veins my skin was pale compared to most. I was, I had always imagined, rather plain in appearance and certainly not what most eligible men were looking for.

Staring into the man's eyes, quite sure that he meant to kill me for my transgression I found myself hoping that he would get it over with quickly. Nobody would think twice of a plain, half-starved girl found dead in the streets and my presence would probably go quite unmissed until my father noticed that they were living in their own filth because their diligent little maid had obviously not been home. As I continued to stare I saw his expression falter ever so slightly and I wondered what he was thinking. If I only knew then what I know now I would have begged him to kill me, to spare me from falling so effortlessly into his trap and end it before it began. But of course I didn't and when he spoke for the first time, that one word pulsed through me with such beauty and dread that I did not know whether to fall to my knees or obey. How could there be so much splendour and power in one syllable? The word coupled with the releasing of my hand made me wonder why he was affording me such mercy. He meant to kill me; somehow I knew in that moment with more certainty than I knew my own name.

Most girls would need to hike up their skirts to run as I did then, but it had been a long time since mine had been anywhere near the floor. As my feet pounded against the cobblestones obeying that one word before I had even finished contemplated it, I wonder now if he had any idea of the path he had put us both on. His voice, that almost inhumanly beautifully voice even then blossomed inside my skull, burning into my memory, shaping an obsession that would become as familiar to me as breathing. Looking back I only wish I had listened, for even then as I submitted to his command and fled home as fast as I could I knew I would need to hear that voice again. The fact that it never occurred to me that I wouldn't see him again, I would, I had to, I was determined.

That first word was so filled with haunting foreshadow that even remembering it now it sends shivers down my spine.

The word was '_run_'.

* * *

><p>The days passed as they are want to do, but that voice neither faded nor dulled in my memory. By the seventh night I was quite aware that I had to find him, somehow. The fact that I had not spoken of meeting the strange masked man, getting caught, his voice was perhaps a lot to do with the fact that I was quite aware of how crazy it would sound, my longing to once more stare into that white mask. To hear more of that voice, but despite many a hopeful walk along those filthy waters I did not meet him again. Unsure whether I fully expected to it was starting to occur to me that in a city of this size he might evade me for the rest of my life. Thoroughly dejected and hopeless it was then and only I caught a snippet from the conversation of the couple walking passed me. Seemingly in awe of something they had seen when they mentioned an impossible voice I did something I have never before done in my life, I stopped them and questioned what that had heard. The two, clearly richer than I (though that was not hard) looked down their nose at me before they left.<p>

It did not matter; with new enthusiasm I rushed towards the outskirts of the town where I knew there was a fair. The looming colourful tents had been a source of much discussion amongst the city and I was cursing my stupidity that I did not associate a masked man with a troupe of performers and showmen sooner. With a voice like that, where could he be? Though it was late the fair was still swarming with people, lanterns were strewn across the well-trodden grass, interweaving tents with tents. Men stood at every door and I realised with a dull ache that they were charging admission to the tents. And I had no money to spare; this was of course why I had not visited sooner, how could I have forgotten?

The people moving around me had turned me around and I glanced at the enormous blocks of colour, the noise around me was eclectic. Laughter, cheers, loud voices trying to entice people to part with their money. But there was nothing of the voice I so longed to hear even though I was quite sure I would be able to immediately pick it from the din. About to give up hope and leave I caught sight of a black shape looming in the distance, a good way from the rest of the tents it was every bit as large though completely devoid of colour. The message the tent conveyed could not be clearer, _leave me alone_. Of course my feet had already started moving me towards that tent. With no sign of anybody charging admission I began to doubt myself, what if I was not supposed to go in there. What if it was forbidden? But all the 'what if's' in the world would not have stilled my progress. My need to once more hear that melodious voice was all consuming, pulsing; it was almost like the tent was drawing me towards it on some unseen line. My hesitation at the door lasted only a moment before I moved aside the heavy fabric and stepped into what at first glimpse seemed like an entirely different world.

The entire room was probably the most opulent room I had ever seen in my life, but I hardly noticed anything but the man stretched languidly upon large silk cushions. His back was against a heavy wooden desk and his legs stretched out in front of him, in his hands was an object but I confess that I could not tell you what that object was. You see I was quite entranced by the length of those fingers, the slimness of them. I had not at that point in my life seen a skeleton's hands but if I had the comparison would not be too erroneous. They did not at all look like they belonged to a man, had those been the fingers beneath the gloves that held me so tightly? Touching my wrists as if some ghostly vestige of his touch would enlighten me I continued to stare at him, slowly becoming aware that he was staring at me.

It had to be him, the mask was plain but there was nothing plain about those eyes that watched me. He was perfectly still watching me, almost feline in his motionlessness and I wondered how he could remain so still. I was trembling at that point but not entirely sure why. Anticipation, fear? He had spared me, told me to run and I had, why had I sought him out? Was it further punishment I required? My mouth opened and closed but no words came out, we just looked at each other. Silence stretching between us like some invisible potency crushing my thought process before I could form words. I would come to learn that this was another skill of Erik's, the skill to manipulate the very atmosphere around him and yet then I thought it was my own mind working to keep me silent. After all how could my voice be anything but wrong in the face of him?

"May I help you?" he asked and although my mind soared as those tuneful notes hit my ears I was almost leaden with the realisation that he didn't remember me. Why would he? Some plain girl that had attempted to steal from him, a girl that posed so little threat to him that he had left me to go. Turned me away, ushered me from his life like he might a stray animal. His tone was cool, unwelcoming and as such should seem ugly. But oh, it's impossible to understand if you have not heard him speak, nothing from those lips could ever be ugly – nothing could ever be anything other than enchanting. It occurred to me after a while that I had not answered his question, how could I even begin to explain why I was there? Did I even know? The man still watched me but I found I could no longer hold his gaze, instead I dropped my green eyes to the floor staring at the dried grass that carpeted this strange lair. "Perhaps you came to retrieve this?" he asked after a while, sarcasm and superiority palpitating through his words so strongly that I raised my eyes once more to those long, white fingers.

A gasp escaped my lips and my own fingers flew to my neck for in his fingers was the locket that I had been given by my mother when I was young, had I really been so distracted I had not noticed that it's small weight no longer hung around my neck? The golden chain was not something I had ever removed, though worth nothing to most it was worth everything to me. It was then it dawned on me that he knew exactly who I was, of course he did. Those eyes looked at me as if he knew everything in the world and I was just some petty urchin coming to reclaim a stolen prize that I had not even missed. The power of his voice alarmed me then for in my right mind I would have noticed the necklace's absence instantly and yet in the fog of fixation he had cloaked me in.

I had not noticed him move but then he was stood in front of me, the chain still dangling from his fingers tauntingly. Somehow the light in the tent glittered off it and made it look lovelier than it ever had draped around my neck, as he didn't move I slowly reached my fingers and touched my necklace. As my fingers touched the metal there was a fraction of a moment when our hands were both holding the same thing and an almost tangible shock echoed through my fingertips. But then his hands were by his sides and the necklace was entirely in my grip. I still hadn't said anything to him, what could I say that would not make me sound like a simpleton? The challenge that I hadn't know I had been a part, I had clearly lost. What else could I do but acknowledge a talent and will far superior to my own? Frowning a little I watched him stood before me, those eyes somewhat smug and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Whatever had brought me back here, the lure of his voice was not enough to stop me being annoyed at the audacity of him, to take the only thing I owned that was worth anything to me.

"You took my necklace."

"Your purse was empty."

"So you took my necklace?"

"I let _you _go."

"I bought my life with a scrap of metal?"

"You have it back, do you not?"

I did, which made me wonder why he had returned it so readily. If vengeance was what he had wanted taking it from me then why not extract it by holding it from my touch. Why just give it back to me without a murmur?

"Why?"

"Do you make a habit of asking such futile questions?" there was a disdain in his voice that I picked up on easily, it made me frown. "Instead of questioning me you would do well to just consider that you stand there, with your necklace and are free to leave."

"You wish me to leave?" I asked dumbly and then closed my mouth quickly. Futile questions, he had told me to, had he not? Then why was I finding that I didn't want to? In the time that I had been here he had stolen from me and insulted me yet so why did I not just take my necklace and flee.

"I do not make a habit of entertaining thieves beneath my roof."

"But _you_ stole from _me_!"

"Hypocrisy is a fashionable vice, and all fashionable vices pass for virtue."

As he settled himself back onto his cushions and focused his attention back on the object he had been holding before I arrived I still stood, frozen in the indignity of his dismissal. Fuming I glared at him, my annoyance only increasing at his refusal to look at me. With a huff of frustration I clenched my fists and pulled the velvet purse from my pocket and threw it over to him. The velvet bag landed on one of the pillows with a dull thud and a clink of coins, I saw him glance at it and tried to keep my expression blank despite the momentary triumph I felt. Turning around I felt his eyes on my back but as much as I wanted to see his expression I knew that to do so would undermine my victory and so I left the tent and stepped out into the darkness.

Just because I didn't _like_ to steal, didn't mean that I wasn't usually very good at it.

If this visit had robbed his voice of its lure to me, then the cold arrogance of the man had very much ensured that I would long to see him again regardless. If only to prove that usually I was not quite such a blundering dolt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It took me barely anytime at all to ferret out all the information I needed about the strange masked man in the black tent. I had always found it fascinating how quick people were to talk about things that disturbed them and in less than a few days I already had more information about the stranger than I had any right to know. Of the people I knew in my everyday life few, like me, could afford to fritter money away on idle fancies. Yet somehow the hearsay had spread fast and left them curious - when they recounted the evening they spared no quarter of detail about his magic and even less about his face.

How had I not wondered why he wore that mask before now? It occurred to me on closer speculation that I must simply have attributed it to the eccentricity of the circus. When they spoke of his disfigurement the crowd that had gathered in that little alley, listening closely, thinned considerably. The girls and some of the boys including my brother were quick to cover their ears at the tale of a living monster and yet I listened with more rapture than I have perhaps shown anything in my life.

I made my neighbour repeat the tale until Arturo all but dragged me away, but how could I help it? I had thought of nothing but that man since I left the tent (not least of the fortune I had stolen and then returned) and this piece of the puzzle did little to diminish my curiosity. The arrogant hypocrite that seemingly knew what was going to happen before it did hid his face behind a mask because the truth was too ghastly to imagine. And yet I could not stop; every possible arrangement of the retold features masqueraded themselves before my eyes as I lay in bed that night.

Skin as white as parchment pulled tightly over a face that looked more like a skull, grossly deformed lips which my imagination continued to picture in horrible and terrifying ways. His eyes sunken so deeply that they looked almost hollow and possibly the most frightening thought of all was his complete lack of a nose. Could it all be true or was it merely exaggerated for the pleasure of a group of over eager children? Surely nobody could exist with such deformities and yet despite the revulsion and horror the images in my subconscious brought me I could not stop them dancing in my mind.

It was, I confess, with some trepidation that I allowed my brother and his friends to drag me back to the circus. I could not decide whether it was the thought of that face or the memory of how insignificant he had made me feel which caused my stomach to turn cold at the mere sight of the tent.

"Let's go to another tent" I pleaded as the boys around me followed the crowd towards the black tent. Fully aware of how pathetic and childish I sounded I was partly afraid that he would expose me for the thief I was in front of the crowd and it struck me how ironic it was that I would be attending his show with stolen funds. Though this time I had not stolen them, my brother had taken them from our father attesting that he owed us some fun.

The things I saw in that tent completely defied my wildest imagination, tricks and illusions that made me doubt my own eyes. Feats of deception that made me question my own logic; contradictions of physics that made me query everything I knew. But as the tricks came to an end the very crowd I was stood in starting turning around me, demanding more, demanding the removal of that mask. I saw the resigned and desperate look in his eyes as he protested once; attesting that he had showed them all that he was prepared to show them. I prayed that they would stop. When they didn't he looked at me and I knew it was not the first time he had seen me there. How long had he known? Those eyes were so filled with hatred for everybody in the room that I was, for the first time, thoroughly ashamed to be here. Could they not see that the demands they were subjecting him to, the humiliation, it was disgusting. As his fingers moved to his mask I turned and fled the tent. I no longer wanted to be a part of it, no matter the ridicule I would get for fleeing off my brother and his friends - it did not matter. I could not watch as that powerful arrogance was melted away into degradation as he was forced to expose himself.

Breathing in the cold air outside the tent I had almost slowed my breathing when the most haunting and heart-breaking song I had ever heard echoed through the fabric of the tent. The song was in a language I did not understand but the undercurrent, the emotion behind it was all too clear. It was at the same time the most beautiful and hateful thing I had ever heard. Fleeing from the sound which had elicited tears from my eyes without my knowledge I ran all the way home and did not stop until I clambered into my bed and hugged my knees tightly to my chest. No matter the distance between him and I, that song was still repeating in my head and it petrified me that it might never stop. If I had heard any more of that song I was almost convinced I would have quite lost the will to live - I could not risk going back to that tent and I hoped, at that moment, that the fair would hurry up and leave.

* * *

><p>Have you ever tried to avoid something that held so much morbid fascination that you felt you drawn towards it? That no matter how hard you try to fight it, to fight yourself, somehow you force yourself more into its path than you intended? I don't truly understand it myself but it is the only explanation I had for why I was sitting once more by the banks of the river, the moon distorted in the slow moving water. I could see the tops of the tents from here, over the walls of the city. If I could see it, I could convince myself that I need not go any further. Make sure that it didn't disappear somehow and sitting there knowing that I was watching it made me feel, for the only time in days, calm.<p>

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I jumped when I realised that there were now two distorted moons reflected in the water. Staring at the second with both horror and inexplicable excitement I was almost afraid that it was just a cruel trick that my mind was playing. So motionless, the blackness of his clothes blended seamlessly with the black water.

"Can I help you?" I asked, repeating the question he had asked me what seemed like an age ago. That first conversation was something I had dissected repeatedly, wishing I could go back and change my answers. I must have seemed like a simpleton to him - but hindsight is by its very nature cruel. When there was no answer I pulled myself to my feet and smoothed down my tattered dress, ashamed at how I looked stood next to him and his perfect ensemble. "I have nothing to return to you." Spreading my hands to show they were empty I had to tilt my neck to look at his mask, I knew I was not short but he was impossibly tall.

"That is a matter of opinion" he said smoothly and his tone was so unexpectedly light I wondered if he was smiling behind that mask. The visions I has conjured in my head of his face seemed impossible to attach to this man in front of me and so I stopped trying. Instead choosing to let myself enjoy the sound of his voice and marvel at the curiously rapid thumping of my heart against my chest. I wondered what he meant but I was so determined not to make a fool of myself I was afraid to ask. Instead I remained silent; if he wanted to keep up with the cryptic game then I could play along to. "I should continue on my walk" he announced with a polite tip of his head and I frowned. Was that it? A comment that would leave me confused for weeks and a tip of his head. I'm sure he saw the cross set of my jaw but I did not give him chance to comment before I nodded and turned my back to him.

"Yes you should. After all I am not in the habit of associating myself with thieves." I had not intended to amuse him; I had intended to make him feel every bit as insignificant as he had made me feel nights ago. So when I heard his soft chuckle behind me I spun back around and glared. Those eyes of his were alight with amusement which of course served to do little more than ignite my temper further. Infuriating man! How could it be that his laughter had infuriated me so and simultaneously lift my spirit beyond every capacity I ever thought possible? As soon as it finished I longed to hear it again. "Is this on purpose?" I snapped "did you set out with the sole intention to embarrass me further?"

That stopped him and he watched me carefully for a minute or two. Time was something that did not seem to exist when in the magician's company, a fact I would never entirely get used to, especially because when out of it the minutes seemed to take revenge and pass excruciatingly slowly.

"I am Erik." He said simply, ignoring my question entirely and speaking as if this was the natural progression of our interaction. The man spoke with such sure authority I had to run the conversation back in my head just to double check that it wasn't. In the end I creased my brow and gave in to his steady gaze.

"I'm Ellah - _Isabella_" I corrected unsure why I had not given my full name first. Nobody had called me Isabella since my mother died and if I was honest I preferred it that way, yet for some reason I longed to hear him say my name. My name on his tongue would undoubtedly be the most beautiful way I could ever hear my name being spoken. Of course he did not speak it, trying to predict Erik was like trying to catch sunlight. Instead we stared at each other for a long time before he nodded once more. It was almost as if he hadn't expected my name to be any different than it was.

"Good evening then,_ Isabella_." I found I was rendered too stunned to protest to his leaving and all I could do was watch him walk away down the riverbank. I did not then know what had caused the sudden change in his civility towards me - how could I comprehend what a few simple encounters had ignited in us both? Everything had changed now, had I only been observant enough to see. Of course I didn't see it then, I stood transfixed on the Tiber's banks watching his slowly retreating form and knowing without a doubt in my mind that I needed to see him again.

* * *

><p>The next night I was not surprised when Erik came walked towards me, though I did manage to hide the smile that crept upon my lips. Of course I knew that there was a chance him being here was a mere coincidence, that perhaps some unrelated business brought him to the same part of the river that he had found me at twice now. But deep down somehow I knew that he was here for the same reason I was - because neither of us knew what else to do in this strange alliance we had found.<p>

Neither of us spoke, there was no casual 'hello' as we fell into step beside each other. I could have thought he didn't know I was there save for the fact his long strides had slowed considerably to keep pace with my shorter legs. It is a strange feeling, walking alongside somebody you barely know. Not knowing what to say or do but knowing that you'd rather be walking in silence forever than to leave. I was rapidly becoming dangerously addicted to his stoic presence.

Finally if only to entice him to reply so that I could hear his voice again I asked him how his day was. And there was that soft chuckle again, as if he was inside my head and knew very well that I didn't care. That I just wanted my fix, my dose of that magical drug that was created in his larynx.

"Is there truly nothing else to discuss?" he asked, amused. Turning around at exactly the wrong moment I caught a glimpse of a purse in his hand, it wasn't mine and my eyes instinctively glanced behind us to a man walking away. When I looked back to Erik he was watching me, his eyes filled with challenge. If he wanted to play games then I participated just to prove myself.

Hours later I probably had more coins in my possession than I had ever had before. Me, the girl who only stole to survive and keep her family fed had delighted in enticing Erik with my practical abilities. Though I could not match him purse for purse, I had not even imagined the devil himself was that quick, I could tell he was still impressed. Or at least I hoped he was. It was hard to tell. When Erik pulled a pocket watch out thought and checked the time I knew our game was at an end. We had hardly spoke, communicating instead entirely with our actions.

It was only when he was gone, after a short goodbye that the guilt of what I had done settled inside me. I felt terrible that I had succumbed to such delinquencies purely for fun, and partly because I was scared his interest in me would wane. Walking home I proceeded to place all the purses but one in the church collection box. Making sure I had enough coins to buy bread and milk I wandered home. The one purse I had kept was the same one I had stolen a week ago, grinning to myself as I walked I opened the velvet pouch and what I saw inside made me stop.

Letting my fingers slip inside I pulled out another purse and I knew instantly what it meant. _Game, set, match._

The purse was mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

After that there was a kind of unspoken agreement that we would meet at night. The same place every night and although we never indulged in that sinful little game again he occasionally took the opportunity to shock me. In fact I think he quite enjoyed the admiration on my face when he genuinely caught me off guard. I returned his purse without telling him I had taken it and he didn't mention it. Everything seemed quite amiable for a while and at the very least I had seemingly acquired somebody to pass the nights with. Except it seemed I had a rather large problem when it came to leaving him, in that I never seemed to want to. This resulted in me sleeping most days away as my nights had suddenly come much more interesting.

Then in happened; he stood me up! I had waited for hours on the bank of the river, hoping with every minute that ticked by that he was simply late. That soon he would come striding along without an apology or a word. Then we would walk along as he told me stories of faraway lands that I could only imagine seeing, buildings that were beyond beautiful, painting pictures in my head with his magical words. But as I became colder and more annoyed it became apparent that he was not going to come.

That is why now, at a little after two in the morning I am standing outside of his tent trying to pluck up the courage to go inside and confront him. I had tried to go home but my longing to see him wouldn't let me. I had to know why he hadn't showed up, had he become bored with my company already? I would have knocked but the lack of a door made it impossible so instead I brushed aside the curtain warily.

"So you are alive then." I snapped as I saw him hunched over his desk. Those impossibly long fingers splayed against the dark wood. It was probably safe to say I had become fixated with those fingers, the way they touched things. By this point I was sufficiently enthralled to become jealous of the objects he touched. I was intensely jealous of the wood beneath his fingers, even if I could not have interpreted the exact cause of my annoyance then. When he did not speak further I crossed my arms and wanted to scream, he had not even turned to look at me. "I waited all night" I snapped indignantly.

Erik did turn around then, and fixed me with eyes so full of rage that I stepped back involuntarily.

"I was not aware I was under an obligation to show up. I am sure you will find somebody else to tell you pretty little bedtime stories." The words were not harsh, as always they were carefully chosen and polite. But the ice that consumed his tone filled me with more trepidation in that moment than I have ever known. "Does it offend you to think that your tiresome presence does not contain for me the same enthrallment that mine does for you?" Standing now only a fraction of the distance he had stood from me before, I was not aware when he began to advance on me. His hands were balled into fists at his side and I had quite lost my voice.

There were a dozen crueller things he could have said to me that night but I'm not sure any of them would have so effectively lacerated my vocal chords, nor caused my body to tremble in an attempt to hold back tears. When he took another step I turned and fled out of the tent, running as fast as I could I stumbled a couple of times before I finally made it home. Erik had effectively crushed my pride and devastated my senses in one foul swoop. But more than that, there was something else to it, something I would probably not have been aware of had he not taken the memories away from me and ruined them. A something that I just could not place, try as I might.

I didn't cry that night for my ego, I didn't cry that night because I was angry. I cried because I knew that my pride would not permit me to back to return to him. I cried because I would never see the magician again.

* * *

><p>The last thing I had expected the next day was to see him, especially whilst I was sweaty and filthy from cleaning the house. The knock on the door caught me quite off guard and I found myself glancing up the spindly wooden staircase wishing my father would wake up - nobody ever visited us unless they wanted money and I was quite afraid that I would not be enough to intimidate them away. My eyes were swollen and puffy from a night spent sobbing, my hands were red from scrubbing the floor and the dress I wore was so short it barely covered my knees. Full of rips and badly patched holes I looked positively indecent.<p>

They knocked again and placing my cloth on the table I brushed my hair back from my face and took a breath. Opening the door a crack my entire stomach lurched when I first saw that white mask. His cloak was pulled tightly around him and I could tell immediately by his posture that he was not comfortable here. There should have been a million questions running through my mind right then, not least how he had found out where I lived. Instead I glanced behind him and then opened the door letting him step inside wordlessly.

I stood there watching him silently, as his eyes glanced around the house I had never been so ashamed of where I lived. The small room with a kitchen and some chairs in front of the fire was probably the worst excuse for a home he had ever seen. Then he looked at me, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in my outfit. Somehow then I managed to become even more embarrassed and I knew my cheeks were burning. Nobody was supposed to see me dressed like this, it was the dress I used to spare my other abused clothes because I could not risk losing one of the few dresses I had. Erik just looked at me, slowly and I shifted my weight and folded my arms in front of my chest. We could not all afford to be as well dressed as him, but even that indignant thought was not enough to squash my shame.

"Have you never seen a woman's legs before?" I snapped when his gaze did not move. I knew I looked awful and if he had come to make me feel worse, then I would rather he got it over with.

"_I-I'm sorry_" he stammered and my eyes widened, I had never thought to hear Erik stumble over words, but his eyes were now firmly on my face. "This was a bad idea, I should not have come." He turned to leave so fast that I found myself running across the small room to stop him, grabbing his arm as I asked him to wait. His hand was already on the door. But the second my hand touched his arm he froze, so did I. Pulling my arm off him in case I offended him, it was my turn to apologise dumbly.

"Why did you come here Erik?" I asked, backing away from him a little in case he still wanted to leave. The look in his eyes unnerved me a little, as did the way his fingers gripped the door knob. As if he was scared to release it for fear of what might happen. As I waited for his answer slowly he turned to me and sighed.

"I wanted to apologise. When you came last night I had received some...distressing news." That was his excuse, that he'd had some bad news and so proceeded to destroy me?

"Did it make you feel better?" I retorted a little harshly, but I regretted it when he brought his eyes up from the floor to stare at me again. He looked hurt, sad and like it was the last thing he had expected me to ask. Very subtly he shook his head; I would have missed it had I not been watching him intently. Rolling my eyes I let a reluctant smile fall upon my lips "you don't apologise very often do you?"

"Not as a rule" he replied with an elegant shrug. I wondered what had stoked the need within him to not only make amends but to make a conscious effort to seek me out to do so.

"Do you truly tire of my company?" I frowned, steeling myself to not cry if he said yes. I did not have to wait long as he answered almost without thinking.

"No. I-" but he stopped himself and once more broke from my gaze. "No." He repeated, more firmly. I didn't really know what to say to that, but I'm not sure my feelings were much concealed behind the smile that broke out onto my face. I could not tell you if he returned the smile, that mask not only hid his appearance but it also made it nigh impossible to tell you what he was thinking. Neither of us spoke for a while again then, this seemed to happen to us a lot. I can't explain why, it wasn't that we didn't have anything to say, I think I could have filled years of time with the amount of things I _wanted _to say to Erik. But whatever was between us felt so fragile that I was so utterly afraid it would shatter if I said the wrong thing. And so it seemed less frightening to stay quiet.

Unfortunately the rest of the world did not seem quite so intent on letting us remain in our little bubble of silence and all too soon my name echoed gruffly from upstairs. Erik's entire demeanour shifted in an instant and somehow he seemed even taller now than he had a second before, looming over me. With that familiar nod of his head he excused himself and all I could do was return the nod as he left.

* * *

><p>The rest of my day was spent, if I'm honest, rushing through my chores and wasting the day away, counting down the minutes until I could see him again. Making sure I took the extra time to bathe and change into one of my more appropriate dresses I ran to the river under the cover of night. It had taken longer to escape the house than usual as my brother was home and was a lot more curious about my sudden disappearing acts than my father was. However that could have been largely due to the fact that my father was rarely sober enough to notice. After a tirade of questions which I traversed delicately Arturo finally went to bed and I was able to escape.<p>

As I doubled over panting by those now all too familiar banks I was more than a little surprised than he was not waiting for me. Hurt, angry, disappointed and annoyed beyond belief I wasted no time waiting, instead I stormed across the city until I barged into his tent.

There was no indecision as I stepped into that magician's lair this time, I was too angry to hesitate. Storming inside my anger fell flat when I realised I was very much alone amongst the opulent decorations. Frowning I shook my head. What did he think he was playing at? Coming to my house and making me actually think he wanted to spend time with me, surely it would have been more merciful to let last night become the end? Rather than elevating my hopes just to abandon me. Perhaps he enjoyed seeing me suffer and images of him bragging over how easily he tormented a simple, plain street rat. Well if he thought I was just going to disappear in shame without telling him exactly what I thought of him he was wrong.

One way or another he had to return here and I would be waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Erik**

_Curse that infernal girl! If she knew the lengths I had gone to convince myself to go to her home then she would never have left me waiting in the darkness for hours._

_I struggled all morning trying to decide whether it was worth braving the public streets to make amends, I risked exposure, ridicule and humiliation to seek her out. Knowing full well that she might turn me away, knowing that I shouldn't know where she lives. I confess it did not surprise me that she didn't ask; Isabelle seems rather lax when it comes to her own personal safety. Not once has she noticed when I followed her home, keeping safety to the shadows lest she see me. In fact I am entirely surprised she has not been the victim of a number of great misfortunes with the hours she decides to keep. The last observation is largely how I justified following her so often; a woman should not be roaming the streets freely at ungodly hours of the morning._

_This is especially wearing the clothes which she chooses to. I am not naive enough to think it has anything to do with fashion; it is merely a lack of resources. More than once these past two weeks I have been sorely tempted to offer her the funds to purchase a new dress. And yet I infinitely lack the ability to do so without offending her or wounding her surprisingly taut pride. _

_When she opened the door I was quite taken aback by how unfortunate her circumstances were. The smell of alcohol in the small, poorly lit room was second only to the acrid smell of tobacco smoke which invaded my senses, I wished then my lack of a nose presented itself with a lack of smell as it would have made the atmosphere much easier to bear. If that was not enough to make me doubt my association with her, her state of undress was quite enough to make me realise how dangerous an association with her might be. The amount of attention she pays to her appearance is akin to the young boys that scramble around the fair grounds, in and out of tents whilst covered in mud and grass stained knees. Disgraceful and unkempt. Though perhaps I could understand that better when I stood in the squalor she had grown up in. There were men's boots on the floor (two different sizes) and men's clothes hanging by the fire to dry, so she did not live alone. I safely assumed she was not married by the sheer lack of shame she attributed to spending so many nights in my company. So blood family then, a father and perhaps a brother? That could make things increasingly dangerous should they find out what kind of _thing_ Isabella has been spending her time with._

_Regrettably my attempt to make a hasty exit was thwarted and I was forced to endure the sight of her in a dress that was both too short and too tight. When she touched me I had quite thought I might lose control of my senses, I suppose she detected it because she backed off immediately and waited patiently. I had not needed to say a word, which either proves she has excellent intuition or that I looked frightening enough in that moment that she stayed away. Or perhaps she had frightened herself enough at how easily she had touched a monster._

_I had not graced anybody with a genuine apology for a very long time and I will not be doing it again if this is the thanks I get. It had not occurred to me that she might not come tonight; I knew that she was addicted to my voice as some people were to drugs. I could see it in her expression when I spoke. But to defy that, to hold back and leave me stood alone of the banks of that moving cesspool the Italians call a river positively enraged me. What else could it have been but an act of spite, ignoring the very fact that I had apologised to withhold her company as punishment._

_It was in a silent rage that I stormed the streets afterwards, afraid to go home for the havoc I was very in danger of reaping. Should somebody cross my path tonight I would very much rather it was not somebody that knew me from the fair. Luckily the streets were blissfully empty and disaster was averted, though when I finally got back within sight of my tent I saw her enter. A flash of golden curls that left me quite sure of who had stormed into my home uninvited. If she wanted to punish me with her absence then I too would punish her with mine. The challenge was set, let us see Isabella who can outlast whom._

_It would have been an exceptional plan except that I had now been stood against the shadowy forest for hours, my eyes and attention trained unwaveringly on the door. She had certainly not emerged, though the sheer amount of time that had passed caused me to question my own home. To wonder if there was some other way she could have left. Ridiculous gave way to the obscene and I began to wonder if I had only imagined her entering after all._

_As the first glimmers of sunlight pierced the horizon I knew I could wait no longer and so with a slight trepidation at my own sanity I steeled myself and walked inside my tent. If I had expected a confrontation I was quite surprised by what I found. A smile played along my lips, hidden behind the mask and it quite took me off guard. On my collection of large, plush cushions lay the blonde, curled up and quite soundly asleep. It was a strange sight for me who had never witnessed another person sleeping, other than my mother of course. Nobody else had ever seemed quite relaxed enough in my presence to fall asleep._

_Grasping the blanket from my own bed in my fingers I draped it over her sleeping form and decided that I would not risk waking her for the world. Not least because suddenly the anger and overwhelming betrayal I had felt all night had seemed to evaporate, it would be better if I could regain some ability to think harshly of her before having to deal with whatever she had wanted to say. Picking up a thick book from my desk I sat down and started to read._

* * *

><p><strong>Ellah<strong>

The first thing I questioned when I first opened my eyes was where I was. The tent, Erik's tent looked entirely different in the day time. Even the dense fabric was not immune to the bright sunlight and shining through the seams it created ribbons of light which danced off the jewels and glittered off objects I didn't even know the name of. It was certainly breath-taking; a room I thought I had pictured in every way imaginable was suddenly transformed before my very eyes.

He was sitting there, of course he was. Seemingly lost in a huge tome of a book that rested on his lap, his feet tucked underneath him on the ancient looking armchair. Suddenly I felt frightfully embarrassed that I had fallen asleep, but the normality of what he was doing made me quite forget my anger of the night before! How foolish, I had meant to give him a piece of my mind, not fall asleep on his cushions. _He had just taken so long. _It was then that the spell was broken and I sat upright quickly, a thick satin sheet pooling at my waist as is ran against my body like water.

"You are awake." He observed without looking up, "I should have you know that I charge for bed and breakfast services" he teased. At least I hope he teased, it was hard to tell with that deceptive mask cloaking his features.

"What time is it?" I asked my voice cracked a little after sleep. Clearing my throat self-consciously he looked at me, perhaps a little surprised by my curt tone.

"It is a little after noon" he answered, closing his book after carefully running his fingers along his page mark. Those eyes were watching me carefully now and I was very much aware of what a mess I must look. My hair would be a mess from sleeping and I teased my fingers through it trying to soothe the masses of curls.

"I should go." I announced, I was not looking at him anymore. But I didn't need to be to feel those eyes of his on me. It was always possible to feel when Erik's attention was on you, it was electric and in time I would come to crave that electricity like I craved his voice. When he didn't speak I stood up and attempted to smooth down my dress, despite the sunshine the air inside the tent was cool and I shivered involuntarily. Rubbing my hands along my bare arms I cursed my hasty retreat from my house last night, I had not grabbed a coat.

"I assume you had something to say to me last night" he asked, also standing up. For a moment I was mesmerized as those limbs unfurled and stood up, he moved more gracefully than anything I had ever seen before. Almost as if there was a music playing that I could not hear. A music just for him, no earthly creature should have that much fluidity. Once again I shivered but this time it was not caused by the temperature.

"I did, but it hardly seems important now." I almost snapped, the indignity of last night creeping back to the forefront of my mind. He would have had me spend two nights waiting for him, if he clearly cared so little about my feelings then it hardly seemed worth fighting now. Better I go instead and retain what little dignity I still had.

"I should think anything that would have you fall asleep in my home waiting for me would be worth saying."

What? What was that supposed to mean? Was he mocking me again, trying to make me feel even more embarrassed about it? There was something about Erik which seemingly enjoyed tormenting me and I hated it.

"I had come to ask you where you were! That whole speech about being sorry, coming to my house and you leave me alone like a fool. Poor, foolish Ellah will fall for anything right? Well I'm sick of your fancy words, as pretty as they are Erik I don't think they hold anymore truth than anybody else's."

I went to leave and I felt his fingers close around my arm, this wasn't like the first time he grabbed me though, this was entirely different. In a way that I couldn't explain, it just was. I froze not wanting to pull away. Despite how cold I was, those fingers on my skin were colder, I realised it was because he was not wearing gloves. How could any living creature's skin be that cold? It wasn't as cold as the snow that fell in winter, but it wasn't what normal living flesh should feel like. The complete absence of warmth, of any heat was much more like something I had associated with death.

When my mother had been dying she had been hot, feverish to touch. After she had died though I had been so relieved to see the red flush gone from her skin I had unable to resist touching her forehead. She had looked so much like she had before the illness claimed her, yet when my skin had touched hers there had been a coldness that assured me quite undoubtedly that death had claimed her.

Erik felt like that, but when I turned his eyes were looking at me. I think he scared himself more than he scared me, touching me, because those eyes of his looked terrified. I didn't know what to do so I did the only thing I could think of desperate to chase the terror from his eyes. Placing my hand on top of his I stood there watching him. Not knowing what to expect or what he thought I was going to do to evoke such fright I stayed quiet.

It seemed like an eternity we stood there looking at each other, he pulled his hand away from me before he spoke and I couldn't help my fingers touching the space where his fingers had just been. But my own hand felt too hot now and not right at all.

"I waited for you, you did not come." Turning away from me there was something underlying in his voice that made goose bumps appear along my skin.

"I did come" I insisted, but then I realised how late I had been. The lack of a consistent meeting time made it difficult to know just how late I had been. But if he had been waiting for a long time then had he truly thought I had decided not to come? "When you weren't there I came here. But you didn't come home. And I fell asleep."

"Yes, I had noticed that."

"But I _did_come. I was held up at home, I had to change" I felt myself blush and his back stiffened a little which I found curious. "I could hardly leave the house dressed like I was."

"No, I suppose not."

"I didn't mean to make you think I wasn't coming. I would never-" but I managed to close my mouth before I finished the sentence, he didn't need to know how desperately I craved his company, or that I couldn't stop myself from seeing him if I wanted to. I took a deep breath before I gave up on hoping he would turn around, instead I moved so that I was standing in front of him. "I like spending time with you. I thought we were friends."

"I don't have any friends." He said, his eyes once again fixed on me with a stony indifference, I had said the wrong thing again and I rolled my eyes.

"What am I then?"

"A damned nuisance."

"Then why did you come to my house? Hunt me out? Let me stay instead of kicking me out?" my own temper sparked, I was fast becoming tired of the confusing tantrums. Talking to Erik seemed akin with walking through a mine field, one wrong word and he closed up entirely. Knowing that we weren't going to get anywhere now we were both irritated I shook my head and tucked a few wayward curls behind my ear.

"Do you really not know?" he yelled and I flinched. Despite the anger he displayed so readily he had never before lifted his tone above that of normal conversation. In my short experience with him his tone usually dropped when he was angry. Yelling at me wasn't what I expected at all and I stepped back a couple of paces instinctively.

"How can I know Erik? You're the magician here - you might be able to read minds but I can't!"

"You think I would be performing in cities like this if such powers lay within my grasp." He paused for a second, holding my gaze "I might look like a monster Isabella, but underneath I am a man."

"I wouldn't know what you look like, would I Erik? You've never shown me your face."

"Then you should be grateful for such a mercy."

I could have screamed then, never before in my life had I met somebody so enormously frustrating. Instead I glared,

"When you've had enough of being cryptic you know where to find me." And in what was becoming quite the habit I walked away from him and out of the tent. Erik didn't stop me this time and I didn't stop myself, even the bright sunlight outside warming my skin wasn't enough to lift my mood. Once more the Magician and I were out of accord but this time, for the life of me, I could not think why.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

You'd think I would have gone straight home, having been gone all night most people might be consumed with concern that their family were missing them. I however was not; it did not occur to me that my father would have missed my presence. Nor that my brother would wonder where I had spent my night - my family were not like most. We were poor and bound together by blood not choice, if Arturo or I found a way out there was little pretence that we would not seize it. We loved each other deeply, but that house was more like a prison condemning us to misery than a home.

By a stroke of luck I managed to haggle some fruit from one of the market stalls, the old man running it was kind and susceptible to my pitiful plight. I may have exaggerated things slightly but biting into the juicy apple I found it hard to feel guilty. In truth I found it hard to feel anything that was not directly related to Erik. By the evening came I vowed not to wait overlong by the river, I would not be enslaved to him, waiting like a pitifully loyal dog. But it would have made no sense to avoid it as it was the quickest way to my home.

I was greatly surprised to find my brother and his friend sitting on the bank a short way from where I usually awaited Erik. Thinking nothing of walking over to sit with them I watched lazily as they threw stones into the river, every so often glancing around to see if Erik happened by. He did not so when the boys stood to leave I joined them. Whether he was still sulking over my words or still consumed by some irritant beyond my understanding I did not care, I'd had my fill of games for the night.

I did not return to the river again, he knew where to find me should he wish to. Though had I known what great misfortune would soon befall me I probably would have swallowed my pride and found him. If only to enjoy the last few days I had remaining of tranquility.

* * *

><p>Three days later my brother lay on his deathbed afflicted with the same symptoms which had plagued my mother. I was housebound to care for him as my father appeared too stricken to remain in the house, though no doubt he was not too upset to drown his sorrows in an ale house. I stayed awake at nights mopping up his vomit, dabbing wet cloths on his burning brow, praying to a God that hadn't listened to the desperate pleas of a twelve year old girl fearful for her mother. I had little hope that he would listen more intently now to a scared teenager who didn't want to be alone with her father.<p>

There was an old lady from next door, a woman who had known my mother, who stopped in occasionally to make sure I was okay. It escaped me entirely how she thought I could possibly be okay as my world came crashing down around my ears. But it was tonight that she found me sobbing in a heap on the floor, in front of a fire that wouldn't light. The tinder was damp for the rain had been persistent the last two days, usually such frustrations would not reduce me to tears but I was exhausted and overwhelmed.

"Go for a walk sweetheart" she soothed as she stroked my hair gently. Wiping away my tears I shook my head firmly, no, I was not a child I was a woman. An adult and as such this was my lot to bear. How many other women endured worse than be without saying a word? I think the little bit of my childhood that remained died in those few days. The well-meaning silver haired woman however persisted in her task to get me out of the house and as I stepped outside into the rain it felt like I could finally breathe for the first time in days.

My feet carried me without hesitation to the fair, though it wasn't until I stood before the looming shape in the rain that I realised how much I wanted to see him. In that moment I was quite convinced that if he wasn't inside I should die. He was so I needn't have worried, stretched on the cushions like he had been so many nights ago. My sigh of relief must have been audible because his head snapped up to look at me, the genuine surprise evident in his eyes for a second before the indifferent mask clamped down. I didn't care though, right then he could have ordered me to leave and I wouldn't have.

Don't think I didn't know what a mess I must have looked right then, the rain was heavy and my hair, clothes and skin were sodden. My pale hair was darker when it was wet, and I could feel it clinging to my face and shoulders continuing to drip rivulets of water down my bare skin and into my clothes which were too saturated to absorb any more. Erik was quick to stand up which surprised me, I had not expected anything from him but a calculated dismissal. Brushing my wet hair off my face I found I didn't quite know what to say, the air around me was thick with the smell of incense and heavy with the heat of a confined space and I found myself wondering whether or not his skin would still be so cold even in this room. If he hated me for leaving, for not showing up to see him, for storming out of here in confusion he didn't show it, he was quick to pass me a heavy blanket.

"You'll catch your death of cold" he chastised, as if being wet was entirely my own decision and not a consequence of the weather. Wrapping the coarse blanket around my shoulders I apologised as if I too agreed that it was. There wasn't any fight left in me tonight and I think he realised it because he didn't speak. Instead he fussed over a strange object for a while; something I would later learn was a samovar, before he presented me with a small china cup filled with hot liquid. I didn't know what it was but it was delicious and even had it not been I probably would have drunk it anyway. This hospitality seemed strange for Erik and though I did not know what I had done to deserve it I was certainly not going to question it.

"I missed you" I said, stupidly as I placed the small cup back on his desk. His eyes narrowed behind that mask and I felt like I had just stepped into quick sand, like I was sinking whilst standing still, not knowing where to turn or what to grab to pull myself out from the awkwardness of his gaze.

"I did not go anywhere." The magician's tone was stern and I found myself deliberately looking away from him, trying to fixate on anything else in the tent. The glowing lamps, the strange and confusing objects anything to spare me those eyes, it did me no good though, I found it impossible not to look at him. My hair was starting to curl dramatically as it often did when wet, my mother had once told me when I was four that I had curls that would be the envy of most women should my hair darken with age. Unfortunately my hair had never so much as slightly darkened and I was resigned now to the fact they never would. I looked like an English china doll that I had once seen in a shop window, I might have been pretty in England but here in Italy I was insipid and mostly ignored.

"My brother is dying" I said, shrugging my shoulders a little to try and disguise the quiver of my chest. There was nothing in the world that would have let me cry in front of Erik now, I was not a whimpering girl like so many of them, and I knew I was strong. But the concern his gaze lavished on me was very nearly enough to break me. "So I have been unable to leave the house." I finished, not wanting him to think I was here for sympathy, largely because I wasn't. I was there because I had wanted to see him, because I had needed to see him.

"Why have you come to see me?"

"Must you always seek some ulterior motive Erik?" I snapped suddenly, "I came here because I wanted to see you. Because I missed you, in spite of how terrible you seem intent on making me feel." It was his turn to turn away then and though I wanted to revel in my small triumph I couldn't.

"What is wrong with him?" he asked, it took me a moment to answer as I had been quite hypnotized watching his long fingers trace along the grove on his desk.

"A fever" I said nonchalantly,

"Do you not even know its name?" he turned on me, and I stepped back instinctively.

"How am I supposed to know that Erik?"

"What do the doctors say?"

"You saw my house, you've seen my clothes. Do you think we have money for doctors?"

Silence stretched between us for a while, I assume he meant me to say something or to ask something but I didn't know what and so I remained silent with that blanket tightly wrapped around me. It was as damp now as the clothes beneath but I sensed that warmth was not the only reason he had handed it to me – I was not entirely sure what other reason there could be but luckily my senses seemed more attuned to the electricity between us that I was back then for I did not remove it. Even when he announced that he would see my brother and my fingers very nearly lost their grip on it.

"I do not think magic tricks and music will help him" I barked hastily and regretted it, like so many things, the second it left my lips.

"If you do not want my help-"

"No, I do. I'm sorry" hastily I moved towards him and touched his arm, "I'm just tired. If there's anything you could do I would be grateful." He watched my hand on his arm for a moment before he nodded slowly,

"There are a great many things I can do." And despite my usual sceptical nature I did not doubt him for a minute, if Erik had told me that the sky was green right then I would have needed to double check before I doubted him.

* * *

><p>Erik did not spend long at my house that first night; he rushed upstairs to my brother's bedside as I dismissed Mrs Creed who seemed overly concerned with leaving me alone with a masked man in the house. I confess I didn't see the reason for her concern, but I lied to her easily and told her that he was a doctor; after all it was not unusual for doctors to wear masks to protect them from diseases. Erik's first words to me when I arrived upstairs were to question why had I waited so long to get help, I didn't answer him and he didn't press it. He must have understood the absurdity of the question. How was I to know he could help? And I had already told him we could not have afforded anybody else. After examining my brother carefully he left without a word and I found myself entirely unsure of whether he would return.<p>

When he did he had several vials of liquid which he took upstairs, I remained in front of the fire scared to interfere or more accurately scared to say the wrong thing and drive the magician from my home. Erik left before sunrise, leaving me with incredibly specific instructions on what to administer and when before telling me that he would be back after his show tonight. I did not hold much hope for his crude medicine, which was a large miscalculation on my part.

Slowly but surely Arturo began to come back to his senses as his fever dropped, I still do not know how he brought my brother back from the brink of death but I was immovably devastated when he told me that he would not be back the following night. Arturo would evidently be okay but I had grown overly accustomed to Erik's company overnight. Even if he did seem to be inordinately averse to remaining in the same room as me overlong, usually making either some excuse to go and check on my brother or to return downstairs. You might think I was terribly naïve but it dawned on me eventually that it was his propriety that kept him from me, though I wasn't sure who he thought would get the wrong impression if he stayed as the only other person in the house was in and out of consciousness.

The next morning, despite my melancholy that my time spent with Erik was coming to a close it was refreshing to see my brother sitting up in bed eating and joking. Mrs Creed had been bringing over broth daily for us both and though she remained ignorant to our nightly guardian angel visiting she must have known that it wasn't my care alone that was nursing Arturo back to health. Atti himself didn't mention Erik, I think he had been too out of it to really know what was going on, but perhaps Erik had sensed it would not last and chosen last night on purpose to leave. The lucidity in Atti's dark eyes when he looked at me was unmistakable. I had my brother back, but I no longer had Erik. If ever there was an example of bittersweet I certainly tasted it now.

* * *

><p>The next day saw Arturo climb from his bed for the first time in over a week and it was all I could do to stop him leaving the house. The boy claimed he was bored and though I was glad he was stronger I did not want him to jeopardise all of the magician's hard work because he couldn't rest for an extra day. Having made him something to eat I left the house under the rouse of going to find our father, I found him easily in the tavern not far from our house. Giving me a strange look, almost one of disgust I wondered what on earth was going through his mind. I attested it to the drink and thought no more of it; he followed me outside and offered to escort me home. I remember hating him in that moment, an emotion I have never felt towards him before. Arturo had nearly died, he had left me alone to watch my sibling perish like my mother had and now disaster was averted he was coming back to invade the bubble I had made for us.<p>

"I have had quite enough of those four walls for a lifetime" I sighed, "there is food on the fire though if you're hungry." If I expected gratitude I got none, instead he turned from me without a second glance and walked home.

My feet tried to pretend that I was going for a casual walk, but they knew exactly where they were going. Though the horror I felt when I first stepped into the familiar field was palpable. Spread out over the usual black and white flyers advertising prices were new statements claiming '_one week left'_ and '_last chance to see'_. Of course I knew that they weren't going to stay forever but it hadn't occurred to me that they might leave so soon. Had one month truly passed so quickly?

I walked numbly to his tent, stepping inside without uncertainty – I was too shocked for politeness.

"You're leaving." I said to his back, half expecting that dry chuckle at my statement. There wasn't any and the cool tone he answered with told me that he was every bit as dismayed by it as I was.

"It is a _travelling_ fair."

I felt pathetic and useless and I had no way to put my disappointment into words. Those nights I had wasted being petty, wanting to show him that I didn't need him, I wanted them back. I wanted to show him how sick I felt, how empty, I didn't think that I could ever smile again if he left now.

"You saved my brother's life" I muttered as if it made any sense to bring it up.

"You should leave." He told me, turning around and looking at me for the first time since I arrived. His eyes were a mix of emotions I couldn't quite identity, whereas I was quite sure mine were simply devastated.

"I don't want to."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know."

"Well I do!" he snapped angrily and my eyes widened in shock once more unaware of what I had done to earn his hostility. I was about to wonder as to yet more cryptic statements I did not understand but then he spoke again. "You follow me around, undecided, toying with me Isabella. You are walking a dangerous line and you need to leave while you still think of me fondly."

How had I been so naïve to not see it before, it all sunk into place then when his eyes met mine. I understood the emotion there in an instant and realised how foolish I had been to not recognise if before. I had spent the better part of a month trying to recognise feelings that I had never had before, that I had never expected to have. But he _hadn't_, I was so used to my brothers friends looking at me like I was one of the boys that I never even considered that to Erik I wasn't a boy. I was a girl, a girl who had treated him kindly, a girl who had taken every opportunity to, however unwittingly, flash her ill-fitting clothes in the direction of a man that was clearly not used to such things. God I had been so blind, this obsession wasn't unlabelled, and it wasn't some new experience that was exclusive to us.

It was _lust_.

Stepping towards him it was he that took a step back and I frowned, was it truly so difficult for him to be close to me? So painful? I had never so much as kissed a boy before; nobody had ever shown any inclination to do so not least myself. Was I willing to do this now? My head was swimming with a mix of emotions that I couldn't separate, gratitude, obsession and still that hollow, empty dread that he was going to leave soon and I would never see him again. Erik had saved my brother's life, he had infuriated me at every opportunity and he had now awoken something in me that was entirely new. I didn't think I could go back now if I tried. It occurred to me then that he probably wouldn't take his mask off to kiss me, whatever was under there held too much fear for him.

Luckily whilst I was frozen in contemplation he was apparently frozen as well, though I was not sure in what. Was he struggling to hold himself back from taking something he wanted? Or was he just terrified that I had finally connected the dots of what he wanted from me. The truth was that I liked this man, I liked being in his company, he enraptured me and helped me without obligation. I had always intended to save myself until marriage but at seventeen already I knew I was probably going to be condemned to a life of spinsterhood. So why should I not use it to show a man who clearly needed reassurance and human kindness what it could be like. Of course I was scared of the horrors that lay beneath his clothes but no more than I was scared of what lay beneath any other man's clothes. There would be no way I could repay him in coin so why not like this? If I was honest with myself, entirely honest, the truth was in that moment I wanted him as badly if not worse than he wanted me.

"If there is something you want from me Erik, then take it."

"Don't be absurd." He snapped, "Just leave. You owe me nothing."

Had he read my mind? Still my face remained unwavering, I had decided and I wanted this. God how I wanted this, how had I only just realised what this feeling was? Now I had a name for it, it seemed to pulse with renewed vigour through me.

"You think I would use my body as payment?" I snapped indignantly. "How lowly you must think of me after all." And then, I turned away though I had no intention of leaving. The magician stepped forward to stop me but because I hadn't taken a step I could feel him halt behind me. He didn't touch me like he had when he tried to stop me last time but there was something new in the air. An almost tangible tension that I was convinced would stop if he just touched me, God how I wanted him to touch me. "You do not scare me Erik, you do not repulse me. You can either turn me away, afraid of something you think might happen or you can trust that I want this and give us both what we clearly want."

"How can you?" he asked, so low I could barely hear him. In reply I just shrugged, it was a question I wasn't sure how to answer myself.

Turning around I was all too aware that his body was incredibly close to my own now, we had never been this close to each other before and the acknowledgement sent a shiver of excitement through me. Tracing my tongue along my bottom lip I looked up at him, eyes wide, full of promise. Then I put both of my hands firmly on his chest; I was not quite sure what I meant to do next but his fingers wrapped steadfastly around my wrists. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then…..and then….oh if I could only put what happened then in to words I would likely be a very, very wealthy woman.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Arturo**

Does she truly not see what everybody else see's? What they are whispering behind her back? Truthfully oblivious of the spiteful little stories they are spinning in their meddlesome chit-chat. Honestly? I do not think she does. Ellah is too lost in what she wants and it has never been an ability of hers to cipher out when she is the centre of malicious rumours. As her brother, younger or not I have always thought it my place to control what is said about our family, about her, but now I found myself quite at a loss over what to do to quell the gossip.

I don't believe them when they say she is the circus freak's lover, even when my friends poke fun at me because of it. I have punched more than one of them for their idle talk and I would do it again in an instant to defend her reputation. With our drunken father and my dubious pastimes she is the only beacon of light we have left, the one thing that I am convinced keeps my mother from spinning in her grave.

My sweet, considerate and innocent sister would not give her body to such an unholy thing. I confess I am a boy and the thought of my sister doing that with anybody makes my blood boil in a repressed temptation to strike them dead. More than once my friends have expressed an interest in her and I have squashed it before they thought of acting. If she were to marry then I would lose my only respite within walls I cannot stand, she would abandon me with our lout of a father, more than that though I am convinced that if she ever had a chance to be happy she would forget us entirely.

Even now as I feel lips on my neck I cannot fully concentrate on the sensations, this is what I sought Francesca out for, the sole purpose to chase the nasty and dangerous thoughts from my head. A blissful break from conscious thought that I more than think I am entitled to. After days, perhaps weeks of being laid up ill I needed to leave. Needed to focus on something fun, to feel alive again. Ellah had not returned when she had gone to inform my father of my recovery, which surprised me and then did not, she hated that house every bit as much as I did. Could I resent her a few hours freedom? Never, it was not in my ability to resent her anything. I loved Isabella less like a sister and more like a revered saint, unconditionally and perfectly. I suppose if I'm completely honest with myself I loved her as a doting son loves his mother, she was my family, my parent even though she was only a year or two older than I.

* * *

><p>"Where is it your sister runs off to Arturo?" he barked at me seconds after he entered, I just blinked in surprise at the question. I had heard the rumours that she roams the streets at night with the deformed magician but as sick as the suspicion made me I did not share it with him. It was still daylight and so I could easily convince myself she was enjoying the sunshine. Instead I shrugged and went back to staring into the fire.<p>

The next thing I felt was pain as I sprawled out on the floor, face against the dirty stones as I gasped for breath. He had winded me as his boot connected with my stomach, but despite my fists clenching against the stones I didn't react. I felt him step behind me and I felt the weight of his muddy boot press against the side of my face. I thought for a minute that he might actually crush my head but then I heard his slurred speech. Between the boot and the stone on each of my ears he sounded very far away,

"You are her brother. You are supposed to stop her from damaging her reputation. Do you think I'll be able to find her a husband now? Now she has sullied her body with that thing?"

"She hasn't" I protested feebly when he moved his shoe, sitting up I looked at him ignoring the muddy imprint I knew would be on the side of my head "she wouldn't. I know Ellah."

"If you know her so well then tell me what is more important to her than coming back to see her brother?"

"She needed some time outside" I choked, not wanting to accept that he would think so harshly of her "she has been here for days." I neither pointed out that whilst she was by my bedside daily I do not remember once seeing him, or that she had not once left the house during my recovery.

"He better be paying her well." The old man scoffed and I felt my temper rise quickly, flying at him my fists ready to punch I felt my knuckles collide with his hairy chin and I stopped, shocked and frozen. I had never stood up to him before, but the salacious lies he was repeating about my Isabella made me unable to stop myself. He beat me then, the belt slid from his pants so easily that I had no chance to flee, even as he ripped the shirt from my back. He pinned me against the stairs and for a long time the only thing that existed for me was that hard, unforgiving strip of leather against my skin.

* * *

><p>Gentle fingers touched my tender back and brought me back to the present, I winced and she apologised. Now I don't want you to get the wrong impression about me, I have not been with many women. I do not doubt for a second that it would change if I ever had the money to visit one of Rome's infamous whore houses, but in my unfortunate position I had only the less prudish girls in my social circle to pick from. Nevertheless Francesca was always the one I came back to, the younger sister of one of my friends, he was a year my senior, she a year my junior. The chubby brunette had been my first and though I did not want to think of settling down so soon she was the only person I could picture marrying. I suppose I loved her, in spite of the fact I knew I was not the only boy she took to her bed. She may have been my first but I knew I had not been hers.<p>

"Atti" she purred my name "do you not want me tonight?"

Normally the question would have elicited multiple protests from me but tonight I just sat there silently. My back was shredded to ribbons as were the backs of my legs. It was not the worst beating I had ever gotten from him; it was the thought of Ellah that was turning my blood cold. I could not shake the horrible thoughts of her with that thing, if even my father had heard the rumours then the must be a lot more far spread than I had anticipated possible.

They said that she often waited on the banks of the river for him, that they had watched her. Before I fell ill I remembered her meeting my friends and I on that river bank. I had been watching to see if there was any credence to the rumour when she had quite upended my plans and joined us unabashed. But _he_had not come and she had come home with me, which had settled my mind a little.

Nevertheless I knew that everybody could not be lying, I knew that she no longer spent her nights at home and she often slept the day away. I knew my sister though and despite hearing that she was often seen leaving the fair grounds I couldn't believe that she would willingly defile herself. Not _my_Ellah.

I was very young when my mother died and I do not remember her well, all the stories I remember of her have been told to me by Ellah. You could say that Ellah is more a maternal figure to me than a sister and the thought of a man touching her, I couldn't bare it. I had thought it was just in anger hence the reason I endured beating after beating from my father - but now I was learning the thought of anything else enraged me as well. I had honestly not entertained the fact that I would have to think on such matters until after she was married. In spite of the wanton and filthy girls I knew around us Ellah always seemed pure and untouched, completely oblivious to the sin around which surrounded her.

My sister wasn't like Francesca or the other girls surrounding our lives. She was one of the boys, an untainted and naive girl and definitely not a whore. Maybe she was spending her evenings with him but I had to believe that she did so ignorant of what he might want from her. I had after all seen his face and I could not stomach the thought that anybody would lie with him out of choice or for all the money in the world.

There was simply not enough money to make stomaching that repulsive thing worth it, surely?

* * *

><p>I waited until late to return home, hoping to find my father passed out. I had not expected him to be waiting for me. Ignoring him I crept up the stairs but I stopped when I heard his hateful laughter. "Do not waste your time creeping. There is nobody sleeping up there. Your sister has a new bed to warm. A slut and a weakling - the heirs to my bloodline, am I supposed to be thankful for that. Do you see what you left me with Isabella?"<p>

I ignored his statement, that last line I knew he was no longer addressing me but some visage in his head of my mother, my father was lost for the night and I did not have the strength to pry the bottle from his hands. I might have been better but I was feeling awfully drained after today and believed that I was not quite as recovered as I thought. Undressing and falling into bed I lay on my stomach. It wasn't easy to fall asleep like that, but I knew I couldn't roll over. I could not help wondering if my mother was somehow watching us, and it was holding back tears that I said to the darkness, "_yes Mother, do you see what you left us with_?"

* * *

><p>The sunlight woke me as it usually did, though it was brighter than I was used to. That could have well been the ache that was pulsing behind my eyes or it could have been simply because I had slept the morning away. Usually I was awake shortly after dawn, a survival technique that ensured I was out of the house while my father remained unconscious. Dressing quickly and gingerly because of the welts and cuts on my skin, I headed downstairs and found my father sitting in the same seat I had left him in. Glancing at the fire I frowned, there was no food cooking, my stomach protested loudly as I wondered if it was because once again we were entirely out of ingredients.<p>

"She has not been home."

I froze, what did he mean? Ellah always came home if not at night then in the mornings. My first horrible thought was that something had happened to her; I was suitably in denial about her relationship with _it_that my mind didn't go to where my father's did immediately. Thoughts of her lying dead in the Tiber floated through my mind, wondering if some ill fortune had befallen her. My blood ran cold and I was about to insist that I go to find her when he spoke;

"Perhaps she won't come back at all. The circus is leaving soon I hear" he sipped at a bottle "maybe we will not see her again."

I would not believe it; Ellah wouldn't leave me here alone with our father! She would not leave without telling me, the mere thought of it was ridiculous. And yet why was I shaking? Leaving the house I wandered the streets and along the river for a long time. If she was indeed involved with the magician in some unnatural friendship then somebody needed to intervene, to tell her exactly what that magician wanted from her and if nobody else would it fell to me. I did not think that the face would make a difference to the man within and I doubted there were many men of money (I did not doubt he had money after seeing inside that tent) that would waste his time with a girl as dirt poor as Ellah unless he was hoping to relieve his carnal desires in between her legs. I had to tell her, to warn her that he was likely coveting something she did not understand.

I did not find her wandering the streets as I had hoped. My feet led me eventually to the fair; it was crawling with more people than I had ever seen here before. Maybe that was because the novelty was about to come to an end, possibly because there were bargains to be had now. I knew not, I did know that the ominous black rent was standing quite isolated a distance from the others. I did not remember it being so far back, but when had last visited it had been surrounded by people eagerly awaiting entrance. Now it was quite isolated as if it no longer held any interest.

The magic's performed within those walls I had thought never to see matched again, could he work such a spell on my sister? Was it magic that drew her to him mindlessly? Although that would have been easier to stomach, logically I did not truly think it possible; his tricks were just that, well practised and amazing deceptions. I remembered then bitterly that she had run before he showed us his face, we had teased her about it for days. Brave little Ellah who could match us climbing tree for tree, building for building and jump for jump was afraid of the monstrosities that lay behind a mask. Now it occurred to me that she had not left because she was afraid, had something been going on even back then?

Walking towards the tent and forcing the thoughts from my mind, slowly I took a deep breath before touching the curtained door, I half hoped that I wouldn't even find my sister in there. That the man in the mask would be quite alone, not expecting visitors and quick to assure me that he had no connection to my sister. After all, he did not look to be more than bones surely a strong young man would be enough to scare him away from her – if I challenged him I was quite aware that I was not weak. I would win and hopefully he would see that without wishing to test it. The curtains did not move against my hands and I frowned, somehow they had been secured. Had the magician left already? Had he kidnaped Ellah and run?

My stomach lurching I was about to find somebody to ask when I heard a noise, a soft moan. Placing my ear against the curtain with some trepidation I heard another. And another. Moving away as if the fabric had burnt me I fled as far and as fast as I could from the circus, when I stopped for breath I found myself retching, my empty stomach yielding nothing into the Tiber save a horrible yellow fluid that burnt my oesophagus.

That _thing_had defiled my sister, was defiling my sister as I stood there. And she had certainly sounded every bit as convincing as every single one of the whores I had bedded. Retching again I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand angrily, I had thought her so innocent, so pure and there she was proving that she had played me for a fool.

There was no blissful denial left to me now and I wondered if my father was right all along, about everything. Was Ellah planning to abandon us without a word? Was a monster truly a better open than her actual family? She thought lying beneath a monstrous thing, letting him touch her, take her, whilst she moaned and mewled like a practised slut was a better life than with me, I who had spent years ensuring her safety? I who had taken her share of the beatings to, to preserve her innocence, to shelter her from the reality of men.

And she had given it all away to little more than a living corpse.

I hated her right then, every bit as much as I hated the monster that had ruined her. My Isabella was just a woman after all, an insatiable whore every bit as wretched and tainted as the others. The one thing I had thought pure and innocent in this world had evaporated before my eyes. I had loved her, protected her and she had ruined it all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Two days had passed before we managed to crawl out of that bed, two entire blissful days during which I couldn't have told you anything. What time of day it was, what it was like outside – all that existed in those two days was him. Erik, just he and I alone enjoying the magical way that our bodies seemed entirely made to fit against each other's, his inside mine. No wonder people were so obsessed with this, it all made perfect sense to me now, I understood so much more. That body of his I confess had been terrifying at first; I had not expected that underneath his clothes he was so gaunt, so thin. The magician looked ill without his careful trappings, nonetheless I was quite determined to not flinch away in fear – though I had been close enough at first. I understood it would be too cruel to go so far and then stop. But when he first touched me, those fingers dancing along my naked flesh and I quite forgot everything else, if I had thought that those hands were magical before it held nothing to the things which he was seemingly able to do with my body.

There was no kissing, of course there could not be, he never once removed his mask, but his fingers seemed desperate to make up for the lack of kisses and befell my skin with so many light touches and caresses that it hardly seemed to matter. There was pain at first, so much pain that I quite think he would have stopped entirely had I not begged him not to, clung to him and pleading through gasps and then after that pain came an ecstasy I hadn't known to dream of.

I do not know whether he was supposed to have shows to perform those two nights, only that he didn't leave the bed. Those heavy doors were tied from the inside (_a thing I had not thought them capable of, how foolish was I to imagine that there was not some way to secure privacy in here_) and the outside world ceased to exist. No sound seemed to carry through that heavy fabric, no sunshine penetrated the seams. It was just he and I, alone with deliciously soft silk bed sheets and our desperation which seemed insatiable.

Blinking in the bright sunshine outside of the tent I almost felt like I was awaking from a long dream, but his long fingers slid over my shoulder and around my throat pulling my head back against his chest. There was no longer an hesitation when he touched me and I understood wordlessly that I was his now, the man who's face I still had not seen had claimed me more effortlessly with those forty-eight hours than I had ever thought possible. There hadn't been any words exchanged, save for gasps and moans, mostly mine and I understood somehow that it wasn't a punishment. He needed to know that it wasn't his voice that kept me there and I needed to show him that to, there was nothing invading my consciousness save my want of him. We hadn't spoken of the fact that he was leaving, or of the fact that I didn't want him to go. I didn't need to ask to know that he wouldn't stay for me, a part of me could never imagine Erik staying anywhere for long.

"You had better go" he instructed me, the power pulsing through those words told me that I should be quite incapable to resist his command. Yet I still stood there against his body, it had been the first time I had been clothed in days and they felt frightfully uncomfortable. I closed my eyes to focus on the feel of his heart beating behind me, I could feel it through his clothes, through his chest, I could feel it in my blood and I reason my heart was trying desperately to match pace with it. He must have known that I was scared he would disappear when he was from my sight. An irrational fear but I felt somehow like he was a dream and I was suddenly on the precipice of waking up. Wanting desperately to cling to him but knowing that soon he would escape my grasp entirely and leave me forever trying to recapture the memories. Such painfully exquisite pleasure would surely never be mine again, though deep down I was starting to understand that even without the pleasure I now knew, it was him I would miss. I could tell he was waiting for me to pull away but I didn't know how he expected me to be able to, my body seemed quite willing to succumb to his dominance now and forcing me to be the one to tear myself away was cruel. I told him as much and he chuckled. I both felt and heard the sound, his chest moving behind me as the velvety sound escaped his lips.

The situation however remained unchanged, I had to leave and I had to do so now before my body betrayed me once more and I fell back into his embrace. Standing up firmly his hands fell away from me gently, as if he understood that any resistance would have us both back inside that tent. Erik had told me he had things that needed attending to, I assume he meant packing but I was too afraid to ask. A large part of me was still trying to pretend that he wouldn't leave, that the fair would remain here unchanging and we could continue to spend our nights together. That was the rule wasn't it, my nights belonged to Erik even if he did not wish to claim them, and it dawned on me that it had been a rule from before I even acknowledged it.

"You will be here when I return?" I asked, suddenly desperate, turning to look at him. He nodded softly, almost so subtle it wasn't even a nod.

"I would not leave without saying goodbye."

I smiled in relief, I would have doubted anybody else but for some reason I did not think Erik would go back on his word. Perhaps it was just hope but it made me feel better regardless. I stood there a moment; scared to touch him in case it broke my resolve, then I waved and turned away. I felt the second I lost his attention, it was like my entire body mourned the loss of something it had held unwavering for days, I can't describe the feeling, it wasn't either pleasant or unpleasant – it was just gone. Walking back through the familiar streets I began to contemplate how terrible a person I had been. The past few days I had given no thought to my brother's health though days before he had been on deaths doorstep, and yet now my pace sped up unconsciously. I should never forgive myself if he had fallen ill again and I had been too distracted to care. Walking into my house I glanced around, my father's harsh voice was the first thing I heard.

"Where have you been?"

Nobody had questioned my whereabouts in years and I wondered for a second if he was sober, no, he took a wobbly step and my stomach calmed down. However could I explain to him where I had been? "I told you I needed to get away from this house. Where is Art-"

"He left. After you did, and me coming all the way home to see him recovered." He snapped snidely and my eyes narrowed,

"He hasn't been back?"

"Oh of course he's been back, it's you I thought would not be returning."

I should probably have sensed something was odd then, but I was too relieved that my guilt had been for nothing. Arturo was okay and I was free to remember those days with enjoyment, of course I wasn't sure how I was supposed to distract myself for an entire day. It was all well and good Erik sending me away like an errant child because he had more important things to do, but I didn't. There was so little time remaining to us I felt a little resentful that he was denying me now. Also there was that persistent voice inside my head which claimed that I had given him what he wanted now. That there was no longer any lure from me anymore, he had lost interest. Regret was not something I could even pretend to muster however, I would not change what had happened for the world and even if I lived the rest of my life as a chaste spinster I knew those memories would be enough to sustain me. There could never be anything like Erik again and I felt deep down that anything less than that would leave me disappointed; like seeing a forgery after you have seen the original masterpiece in every full, extraordinary detail.

"The house is filthy" he slurred and I nodded, putting my foot on the bottom step ready to go and change so that I could clean, instead my father's clammy wrist closed around my arm tightly and I frowned. "Do you think we are pigs, to live like this? When you find a husband you better keep his house cleaner else you'll find yourself on the wrong side of a whip."

"I wouldn't marry a man who would whip me" I insisted, and then he laughed and I frowned indignantly,

"Do you think you're going to have much choice? You're not exactly a catch. Not like your mother. No" he mused suddenly letting me go, "there's not much hope for you is there. Plain little Ellah, can't cook, can't clean, can't sing, can't play. You will marry though, I promise you that. And whether he is cruel or old you will be grateful that he took pity on you." I stopped listening then, dropping down onto my bed. It wasn't the nastiest thing he had ever said to me; his taunts to me were almost as predictable as his violence towards Arturo. Rubbing my arm tenderly the skin was sore where he'd grabbed me. Changing my clothes I prepared myself for a day of cleaning, my father didn't speak to me again, sitting instead in a chair facing the window, sipping at the bottle of brown liquid clutched in his large, fat, sweaty hand.

By the time the door opened later the floor was spotless and the house was at least looking tidy again, Arturo's brown eyes fixed on me and he smiled before he caught sight of our father. Shaking his head he walked to where I was sweeping the fire and wordlessly brushed some soot from my cheek, it didn't help much; I was all too aware that I was filthy. I flung my arms around him though, so glad to see him healthy again.

"You should leave your sister alone boy," he growled and Arturo rolled his eyes so only I could see. Taking that moment to excuse myself for a bath I didn't need to warn my brother that my father was in a bad mood, he was breathing so it usually went without saying. "Let her make the little use of herself she can."

I heard no more of their conversation; instead I took my time heating the water upstairs for my bath, washing my hair and body slowly not wanting to prolong the amount of time I spent downstairs. The dull shouts from downstairs never alarmed me anymore, Arturo had turned into a man that would not easily back down regardless of the beatings he got, I thought perhaps now that Atti could probably out-strength my father but he never tried. We both knew the second he did that he would not be afforded the benefit of living here anymore and I think he refrained as much for my benefit as his own. Lacing up my dress and brushing my hair I was about to slip on my shoes when I heard an almighty crash that made me jump. Running to the top of the stairs I looked in horror upon my father lying at the bottom, running down the narrow steps I easily stepped around him and crouched beside him. I was scared to touch him but it was clear from the awkward way he was laying he wasn't okay. I was just about to touch him when I saw the shallow rise and fall of his thick chest. Not having a clue what else to do I stood up and fled to Erik, not even stopping to put any shoes on.

When I got to the tent it was obvious there was a show going on, I didn't care though I was panicked and didn't have an idea what to do, "Erik" I pleaded from behind the crowd of people. My voice cut through the awed silence like a knife and I saw him look directly at me, I couldn't tell if he was annoyed I had interrupted, confused or just worried. There were too many people between us, his eyes raked over my appearance for a second before he excused himself icily from the muttering crowd, I felt a hand on my arm and I was guided quickly outside. No sound left his lips but his eyes were demanding an explanation,

"Papa fell down the stairs" I said quietly, terrified and knowing with a sickening clarity that he didn't fall. I thought for a second he was about to chastise me but I swallowed deeply and grabbed his hand "please, I don't know what to do." I didn't know if it was the fear in my eyes or the fact that I had almost begged but the angry irritation was gone in a second.

"Go home. I'll be there shortly. Don't touch him or let him move."

I sat obediently on the floor next to the scarily still form of my father, intently watching every movement of his chest but knowing very well that the movements were getting fainter and fainter. Erik didn't knock; he swept through the door and ignored everything but the figure of the old man lying at the foot of the stairs. After he looked at him for a few minutes he stood up again and without offering me an ounce of sympathy he simply shook his head, "there is nothing I can do."

"What?"

"Isabella" he looked at me softly as I think it dawned on me then that he knew something I didn't, "your father is dead." Looking at him I looked back to my father, or at least what was my father. Had I not seen his chest move at all, was it merely my imagination? I knew I was trembling violently but I couldn't stop, not now. I was an orphan, not that I had been anything else for a long time as that man had not been a father for years, but he was there. He was one half of all I had.

"Come away" he ordered me and I felt my body obey him soundlessly as I walked towards him, somehow I think he understood that I needed something to focus on and so he gave me his voice. Removing a broken girl from the devastating scene in front of her, I didn't fight the blissful command of his voice instead I stood and walked into his arms as if my movements weren't my own. I wanted to ask him what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to precede, whether I had to tell somebody but instead I just stood there against Erik. The magician seemed lost in his own thoughts for a long time as he held me and I became aware that he likely would have fled if it were not for me.

"Who is this?" Arturo snapped as he walked into the door, pulling my cheek from Erik I looked at him. I had not cried as might seem normal, though I was still shaking.

"He's dead Atti" I whispered but my brother shook his head.

"It's not more than he deserved. Do not cry for him Ellah, cry for yourself. Why have you let this thing come into our home. My home."

"Your home?" I repeated dumbly, I was too dumbstruck to notice the dangerous way Erik stiffened against me.

"Yes. My home, I'm the only son and as you clearly said our 'father' is dead. And I don't want the likes of him in here."

"Don't be rude! He's my…" I hesitated, not knowing at all how to finish that sentence "…he saved your life."

"And I'm sure you've given him payment enough already." He leered; Arturo had never spoken to me like this before. He sounded terrifyingly like my father and I wondered when my childhood playmate had turned into the man he despised. Erik was perilously silent during the exchange, "most people pay for food with their bodies but you, dear sister, seemingly buy lives. Is that why he is here now? To work more miracles to buy his way back between your legs?"

"Arturo!"

"You think word doesn't spread, sister, there have been whispers about your unsavoury obsession. Go on then, let us see your magic bring him back from the dead."

"Stop it." I realised I let go of Erik when he stepped towards the door, he didn't look at me nor at my brother and I felt the sickening feeling that he was quite finished with me entirely. "Erik" I pleaded, not wanting him to go. Atti stood between him and the door and for a horrible moment I envisioned my brother trying to stop him. Yes Atti was strong but I had felt the strength in Erik's limbs as he lifted and manoeuvred my body around, deceptive and solid, I had also seen flashes of his temper. Whatever I thought Arturo might do, what he actually did was worse and I watched on in blind, unmoving horror as my brother's stupidity rose to new levels.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

As Arturo reached up, Erik was quick to grab his arm but not quick enough to stop my brother pulling his mask off. Had he been expecting it I don't think Atti would have been able to manage it, but something was distracting Erik's enough to hinder his reaction time and that second of hesitance had born a disaster. As the white mask fell from my brother's stunned hand, Erik's hand wrapped around his throat yet it was I who couldn't breathe. The magician pinned my brother to the wall behind him with such speed and ferocity I could scarcely register it. Arturo's feet were clear off the floor and I knew with no shadow of a doubt that Erik meant to kill him.

And I couldn't speak, couldn't move, I was frozen.

I hope you can forgive me the moments I faltered, you see for the first time I caught sight of what lay beneath the mask and my feet were all but cemented to the spot. I knew what was going on but my mind was reeling from the image in front of me, unable to cope, I could only see him from the side but it was enough. All the images I had conjured in my mind, however terrifying and repulsive were nothing compared to the reality what was in front of me now. His face was more like a skull that somebody had cruelly stretched skin over, from where I stood I could see that he clearly had the defined bridge of his nose but where ours would flare out his simply ended revealing nothing but a ghastly hole. At that moment it was all I registered, I was struggling to associate that face with the man that I had been so close to. This was the face of the man I had made love with, relentlessly craved; this was what he had been hiding from me. I had thought he was doing me an injustice thinking I could not cope, but perhaps he had just already known that I was weak.

_If I had known he looked like this, would I have let him touch me?_

It was a question that I did not have the time to answer, I had to collect my thoughts and quickly. Despite the horror of that face, this was Erik, _my_ Erik and it was _my_ brother that he was intently choking the life out of. I had to do something otherwise my entire family was going to be massacred here tonight. Pushing thoughts of everything else from my mind somehow, I stepped towards the two men, Atti's hands were clawing at Erik's in a bid to be released, his face turning an disgusting shade of pink. Despite the revulsion I felt I knew that I had to look calm. I _had_ to get Erik to stop.

Placing a hand on the arm that had my brother pinned against the wall as if he were an errant ragdoll, Erik turned instantly, that face in all its disgusting horror fixed straight on me. The eyes so filled with anger and hatred that I was quite sure he might kill me to.

"Erik stop it, _please_. Let him go" I pleaded, holding his gaze steadily with a confidence I in no way felt. For a horrible second I thought it might not be enough, but no sooner as I thought it Erik released his grip and flew out of the door and away from us both. I let him go, I was too afraid of both his anger and myself at that moment to do anything else. So my brother and I, he gasping for breath and holding his neck, were left alone once more. Left with nothing but the consequences of his actions, a temper than had likely be buoyed by the triumph over an old drunken man, dashed against a man that outstripped us all in both talent and strength.

I was lost entirely, my thoughts could find no foothold as they raced through my head.

I knew one thing though, that it was no longer the body in the corner which was making my stomach churn dangerously.

* * *

><p>It took two short days for everything to be considered normal again; Arturo had taken care of everything without consulting me. The boy I knew so well hadn't said a single word to me since that night and I wasn't sure how to broach the subject to change it. If he was angry with me I couldn't understand for the life of me why, but perhaps it was because despite the sadness of the situation I was entirely lost amongst my own thoughts. And guilt, of course there was the guilt that was becoming so much a part of me I could not remember ever not feeling so.<p>

There was little heed paid to the death of my father, a notorious drunk falling down the stairs was not uncommon. There were no questions as I thought there might me. There was mostly just silence, the house was too quiet especially as my thoughts wouldn't hush even to let me sleep.

I had not been back to Erik, I couldn't face it and despite the immaturity of my fear and the fact that my heart was breaking at not seeing him I could not muster the courage to go and say goodbye. I was no longer swathed in ignorance of his face and I was no longer sure I could allow him to touch me without flinching. I had thought myself so equipped to deal with the horror that lay behind that mask, I had been such a fool. A fool who had wasted no time in giving the man false hope, a shred of faith that his face might not matter to me. But it did, it mattered a great deal and as selfish as I knew the thoughts where, I wished that I had not seen it.

What I wouldn't give to fall into his arms and bed now, to detach the man from that face and continue to enjoy him, to love him in blissful ignorance.

I knew I couldn't go back to him unless I could look upon that face and not care and so I knew that I could not go back to him.

* * *

><p>When Arturo told me that the fair had left, hours after we put our father in the ground, I was both sad and relieved. There was no longer any indecision hanging over my head and I was free to mourn the loss of Erik without my mind racing, I accepted the news with a dull nod but he watched me as if he expected more. The funeral was short and not many people came, we had no money and so apart from a few words from a priest it was basically done before it even started. Instead of mourning my father, I selfishly spent the afternoon in quiet contemplation on the banks of the river, trying to curb the emptiness I felt knowing that even now the magician was far away from me.<p>

Trying to stop the sickening feeling that I only had myself to blame.

How horrible Erik must have felt wondering if I would come back to him, to see him one last time. How had I been so cruel that I could not even have braved a goodbye? It's not like he would have expected anything, I saw in his eyes at once when he had looked at me that he no longer expected anything. I had been severed from whatever bonds we shared as easily as cutting a ribbon, oh that I had been strong enough to prove him wrong. I suppose I really am worthless after all, my father had told me all these years that I had no talent and now I could not even boast kindness. The worst of it all was that I could not even reassure myself that if I had the time back I would go and rescue him these last few days – I was not at all sure that I could.

I should have known even then that it was entirely out of my hands, that my fate was of course no longer my own. It was some hours after the sun set that I became aware of a man standing by my side, there was no reflection tonight and at first I had thought it was Arturo. Holding out my hand for him to help me up from the damp grass I almost gasped when I turned to face that mask. I must have looked suitably horrified because he merely looked at me coldly. There was none of the affection I had once seen in those eyes, or the desire that I had found there so recently.

"I told you I would not leave without saying goodbye." He informed me and I nodded, "I see not that it was not a promise I need have kept." Turning away I stood for a second watching him start to move before I frowned,

"Well you're walking away, and you still haven't said goodbye so I think needn't count it as delivered." I was not entirely sure where my bravery in that moment came from, I should imagine it was born of the same indignity that he always stirred in me. The impression that I was so far beneath him, that he was simply humouring me by his presence – that everything I said or did he had already anticipated. Whatever it was it worked and he stopped a few paces away from me,

"My condolences for your loss."

I had to run the sentence over in my head, he had said it as casually as if we had been merely talking about the weather and once more I was stupefied at the conversation's progression. How did he continuously make me question my social skills when it was clear that he was the one missing entire segues and jumping to whichever subjects he thought was necessary? And how on earth did he make them seem so normal, so natural that I questioned my own sanity.

"Thank you" I said, it wasn't meant to be a question but it sounded like one as I tried to get a grip on my confusion. "Erik" I repeated as he started walking away, "you still haven't said goodbye." That was obviously one push too far because once more he was in front of me, angrily, using his height to tower above me. His hand was gripping my arm where the ugly bruises that my father left were just beginning to fade, the man might be gone but his legacy of violence lived on my skin and Arturo's haunted memory.

"Did you want me to say goodbye Isabella, or did you want me to fade into the darkness like the fair. You have not been here until the last of the tents disappeared over the horizon tonight. You did not want to see me. Why do you want a goodbye?"

"No, I haven't, my father died Erik. I have had other things to think of." It sounded selfish, it made me sound like a spoiled brat but that was surely better than telling him I had been terrified at the sight of his face? That it had made me lie awake at night in terror, held me back from returning to the one thing that made me feel so happy when I thought such feelings would be forever lost to me.

"I thought you might I have, I hoped, but I saw your face just then when you saw me. Just like you saw mine, you are afraid of me now. Repulsed." His patronizing tone made me want to slap him, looking at me like he had told me so all along, that I had proved him right. The audacity of the man to try and inform me what I was feeling. More infuriating than anything was that he was of course, as usual right. But he didn't need to know that so I bristled under the accusation automatically.

"You nearly killed my brother. _Of course_ I'm afraid of you." I could tell instantly he wasn't expecting that because his fingers slid from my skin. There was no apology from his lips or from mine and we stood their shrouded in mutual stubbornness. I was too exasperated to let him think he had been right and I think he was too shocked to press further. That his actions had scared me more than his face was an outright lie, I had given such little thought to his actions that they had left me quite un-phased. But standing there now I realised that it should have been the cause for my coolness towards him, had he been any other man the attempt on my brother's life would have made me run a mile and never look back.

"I see."

_Oh God_, there was that hope again, in those shadowed and inequitable eyes. The slight hint of optimism that I might not actually be rejecting him because of his face but merely for an act which he did not follow through on, I could have dashed those hopes right then but as selfish and immature as I might be even I could not destroy that one bit of hope. Reaching my fingers up, I traced them along the mask, my actions a lot more courageous than I felt. Erik flinched beneath my touch but he didn't pull away, I think he would have been quite prepared for me to pull the mask off right then and there but I didn't. I couldn't. I think he was grateful.

The streets were abandoned I realised with a start, it must have been later that I imagined. It seemed almost as if Erik sucked the moments away from me so that I hardly comprehended they were passing. I had the strangest notion that one day time would have its revenge upon me for my indifference to it.

"You are not quite so brave then." He said softly and I stiffened at the words, the challenge was evident and if I'm honest it was what I needed. Without drawing it out I pulled the mask from his face and pretended not to notice as his eyes widened a little. He didn't run, or flinch this time and neither did I. This was no longer a matter of what I wanted; this was a matter of proving him wrong about me. Proving that I wasn't a panicky little urchin, I was thankful for the shadows of the dark streets that masked his features somewhat, but had it been broad daylight I wouldn't have backed down. Taking a somewhat shaky breath I realised that standing on my tip toes wasn't enough, so snaking my fingers around the back of his neck I pulled him down to meet my resolute lips.

At first he remained rigid against me, but I moved my lips against his and it didn't take long for him to start kissing me back. His hands pulled me closer to him and I was very aware of our bodies once more being flush against each other, only this time I was actually kissing the mouth that elicited such beautiful sounds.

It both seemed like forever and no time at all before he broke the kiss, pulling away from me and meeting my eyes. I handed him back the mask wordlessly and a little breathlessly, but he rewarded me with a smile before he put it back on.

"Goodbye Isabella" he said, his tone a little huskier than it normally was. The sound pulsed straight through me and as he walked away down the street I shouted,

"Erik, wait" I called running after him, "please don't leave me."

"I have to go" the man shrugged sadly, "but, you could always come with me?"

I froze at the question, he was inviting me to leave Rome? To leave my family, my brother, everything I ever knew to fun away with him and do what? A brother who hadn't spoken to me in days, who had threatened to evict me from our home if I brought Erik back there, a brother who was more like my father every day in every worse sense of the word. Live my life with the travelling fair.

It was absurd, it was insane, but I knew before I even thought it through what my answer would be.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

If anybody had told me two years ago that traveling and living with Erik would be easy, I would have laughed in their faces. I had not met Erik more than a couple of times before I knew without a shadow of a doubt that nothing would ever be easy with him. He was arrogant, self-obsessed, power mad and if I'm honest at times a little unhinged. Still I could never have predicted just how insanely difficult surviving him would be. His tempers were unparalleled with anything I had ever experienced before and often I found myself remaining silent and absent in an effort to avoid his dark mood swings. In spite of it all though I fell in love with him more uncontrollably than I had even anticipated possible. I was _his_ and no matter the difficulties that his unpredictable madness presented us nothing would have torn me away from his side.

We travelled with the fair for a long time, years; I became one of them so easily I cannot pinpoint the line at which I stopped becoming an outsider. I grew close with the people that travelled with us, the families and I learnt plenty of skills from the women. Sewing, cleaning, cooking (albeit a laymen's attempt) and not least how to deliver a baby in a pitch black field surrounded by gypsy women. I tell you now there are some sights that cannot be unseen, no matter how much one might wish. It may have been a common part of life in the fair to procreate but I certainly had no interested in learning their midwifery skills further.

I was glad for their friendship though, especially as Erik had the most irksome habit of disappearing for nights on end in pursuit of something or other that caught his interest. I had queried his disappearance after the first time and he had told me firmly that if I could not entertain myself without his presence then I was going to have a miserable life indeed. I never questioned him again, but I at least became a little more secure in the fact that he would always return. Often when he did return he would waste entire days in our bed with me, I presume this was his way of thanking me for not trying to confine him. I must confess as a show of gratitude it was delightful and when he left, I often found myself anticipating his return with a quite indecent level of eagerness. It wasn't that we didn't share a bed often, we did, Erik was a rather insatiable lover and I found that in turn I was quite prepared to put up with the hardships of his demands. I think he suspected I rather enjoyed it to.

I am not sure it is normal to find such levels of frequent ecstasy with another person for such a prolonged period of time and I think I would anticipate that the amount of time we spent in frenzied passion was equal only to the amount of time we spend fighting. Erik's ability to make me feel insignificant and stupid never dissipated but it was some comfort that I knew in turn I could make him angrier and more venomous with two words than the world could make him with entire paragraphs. It was a power I chose to extricate frequently when he would snap at me and our arguments often left the people we travelled with peering tentatively into our tent to make sure he had not done me harm.

That was one thing he had never done, hurt me in anger, I did not ever think him capable. I knew sometimes he wanted to, I would see his fists clench and that horrible darkness cloud his eyes, sometimes he would flee from me then, from an urge to kill me I knew was every bit as real as the need I had to push him that far. More frequently though the angry hatred would turn into deliciously exquisite, powerful sex; if what we did in the bed was love making then I could not class what we did after arguments as any such thing. It was often painful; he extracted his dominance so forcefully upon me that I think sometimes beatings would have hurt less. And yet it was every bit as delicious as it was horrifying. In fact sometimes when we had finished we would look at each other, both so shocked at the acts we committed in those dark copulations that neither of us could express anything. He, confounded at his ability to extract such wickedness and I horrified for being able to enjoy it.

It was that which _stopped_ our travelling family from peeking into our tent, no matter what they heard. I think they accepted the fact that whatever was between Erik and I defied normal laws of decency.

Still it did not make me love him less, or doubt his love for me. Even if infuriatingly he had never told me so. Getting Erik to express his feelings was an impossible feat and no matter how often I professed my love for him, be it with breathless gasps, insistent promise or screaming it at him in fits of anger, the magician never once returned it. I knew he loved me, I knew it in the way he refused to let me go, the way his temper flared if I so much as talked to a boy but more importantly I knew it because he let me share his life. I don't think Erik would have ever put up with the things I did if he did not love me, with the arguments, with the dependency I had upon him if he did not love me back. But although I knew it in my heart, I still would have liked to hear him say it at least once.

It was slow building, the feeling of restlessness I sensed within Erik. His outings were becoming less and less frequent but his attention seemed frayed. I think I knew he was becoming bored with the fair before he voiced it to me but I was quite afraid that his boredom with the fair would coincide with his boredom of me. So I didn't mention it, despite his mounting resentment of the crowds that made him remove his mask nightly, the tedium at finding new ways to impress minds that were sorely incapable of appreciating how much of a genius he was. I did not flatter myself to think I was any better than them but at least I understood how wasted his mind was on me.

It was a quiet night when he mentioned it first, there was a snowfall outside that quite dulled most noises and it brought with it a peacefulness that we were taking full advantage of. He was sitting in his usual high backed chair working tirelessly on some trinket of his, something that looked to me frightfully like a spider, whilst I was sat at his feet trying to wrap my head around the French book I was reading. Erik had been quite insistent on teaching me French and was surprisingly patient as I learned even though I do not think I picked it up fast.

The magician's past was still very much a mystery to me but I knew at least now that he was French; he had an inordinate love of the language that betrayed his nationality easily, even if there was no accent to those melodious words of his. He seemed to especially like French words from my lips though and often it would result in my being quite gently transported to those soft, silk sheets I had come to associate with joy.

Still I was dismayed to find that speaking it and learning it were quite different things entirely and my mind struggled over the unfamiliar words on the pages. I was quite close to giving up in a temper when the book was smoothly lifted from my hands, turning around to look at Erik I was greeted with an amused and rare indulgent look. He had become accustomed to not wearing his mask at night and I had luckily become quite accustomed to that face. There was no longer revulsion in those gaunt cheeks, this was Erik and I loved him now face and all. He stretched those fingers towards me and I took the wordless invitation to climb into his lap and lean against his chest. He read to me for hours, I wasn't entirely sure why he was rewarding me so, but the beauty of hearing his voice turn the words off the page into pictures in my head was never something I could resist.

In fact when he stopped I was quite disappointed, I glowered at him to show it and he chuckled.

"Do you ever get tired of this?" and my heart sunk a little,

"Do you?"

"I confess that sometimes I wonder if it is time to move on, to find something new." Straightening my back I curved to him, turning myself in his lap so that we were facing. If I was a better person I would have let him talk this through, discuss his fears and hopes but I was so consumed with the fear that I was a part of the life he tired of I did not. Instead I used my lips and hands to distract him expertly.

Erik might have his magic, but I had an entirely different kind of manipulation at my disposal.

I lay awake that night for a long time, wondering if I had merely postponed disaster rather than stopped it. There was an overwhelming sense of dread blossoming within me, that things were going to change and I was going to lose the man I loved so much because I was not interesting enough, because I failed to challenge him. I hid my tears and thanked the heavens that he remained asleep. How could express my innermost terrors to a man that wouldn't even tell me he loved me?

The he came into our lives, uninvited and unwanted. The Persian. Naveed. Somehow that one man seemed intent on enticing Erik away with promises of power and wealth beyond his imagination. He would come in after shows and all but beg Erik to accompany him home with him, to Persia, to perform for his king. It both infuriated me and terrified me, he spoke in an ugly language that I didn't understand and so all that I knew was what Erik confided in me at night.

Weeks of him speaking of nothing but that strange culture, of the architecture he might see, of the things that mysterious continent might hold for him. Not once did he ever say 'we', I had become quite the outcast in his thoughts. It dawned on me that it was very likely this would become one of his extravagant adventures that I was forced to wait for him indefinitely for. But did he not realise that this was not going to be a few nights? This would be months, perhaps years that I would be lost and alone whilst he indulged his unquenchable mind. I could not deny Erik but I began to hate Naveed more than any other person I had met.

It was a morning that Erik confided in me that he had every intention of accepting Naveed's invitation; of course he never used his name. It was always Daroga or 'The Persian'. Livid and not honestly believing he was actually going to disappear so that I might never see him again I slapped him. I had never done such a thing before and we both stood quite frozen after my hand collided with his face, I was not sure if anybody had slapped him before but the open disbelief he stared at me with only served to anger me further.

"You would leave me here alone and destroyed? My reputation ruined beyond repair and with no way to make a marriage or a living?" I couldn't stop the words leaving my mouth; I had bottled them up for so long. I loved Erik, beyond love, but I was not a fool. I understood that I had been living in sin with somebody most people considered below human, if he left me now I would be ridiculed. I was not married but I was broken beyond all comprehension of innocent. He had contorted my desires and I knew they would never again be matched. In short he had ruined me and now he planned to leave me with no way of knowing if he was safe or even alive.

"Leave you" he repeated blankly "I had no intention to leave you."

"No, you just assumed I would come?" suddenly that thought made me angrier than the thought of him assuming I would stay. The look in his eyes then as he realised that my own stubbornness might well keep me here was heart-breaking and I also knew that _he had_. These plans he had been cultivating _had_ included me, he had just not thought to assume I wouldn't follow him blindly. The confidence I had spent two years building in him, the security in my love, and I was tearing it all down around him. If he had apologised then, reassured me that of course he presumed I would come. That he couldn't have imagined being without me, I would have crumpled into his arms and we would have been reconciled.

But no, he was Erik and I was me and things were never that easy between us.

"I am going, whether you accompany or not is entirely your choice."

"Then bon voyage Erik" I seethed icily before I turned and absconded the tent.

**Naveed**

_When the Shah had requested that I travel half way across the world to chase some illusive trickster I thought it was a farce, I should have known better I imagine for the Shah is never anything but serious in his fancies and my astonishment at his request only served to solidify my fate. The whispers of the magician that had captured the ever changing, spoiled attention of the Shah had indeed irritated me from the first moment I found out I was being sent away. Banished away from my home, away from my wives and children to hunt down a performer and return him to the one I served. These requests were of course not overly uncommon from the man but my part in them was. I am of course the daroga of the Mazandaran, my business did not often lead me out of my country and it certainly wasn't my usual commission to track down the Shah's newest entertainment. _

_Nevertheless here I found myself, exploring the hundredth circus I had come across, wondering idly if I had seen this one before. Gazing into the tents and trying to ask questions in broken English to asserting if they had any magicians travelling with them. Of course they all did, I have seen more magic shows than I would like to count whilst searching the entire of Europe for any hint of the man. In my opinion these 'magicians' were little more than ill trained tricksters. I was observant enough to see how the majority of stunts were pulled off and it quite detracted from the magic of it all._

_It was of course about the same time I was beginning to think the man merely a fabrication of a bored mind that I of course stumbled upon his show, afterwards I realised humbly that the others I had been labelling magicians were merely pathetic amateurs compared to the feats that this masked man somehow accomplished before the eyes of us all. The crowd I was standing amongst were a lot different than I and I could not have stood out more if I tried. My dress was of course entirely different to the crude and distasteful attire surrounding me, but it was naturally my skin colour that stood out the most. Yet nobody was focused on me and my insignificant differences, not when the man in front of us was defying psychics itself. Stunned and awed I was once more completely astonished when he removed that mask, the horror of his face was not something that had been whispered about. I had little time to contemplate the face before me however as his voice carried through to us all, penetrating our subconscious and ripping our emotions, distorting them to his will._

_When he eventually stopped I no longer felt able to remain there, to question him about accompanying me and so I took my leave as did the rest of the crowd, leaving him very much alone in that strange tent. _

_When I returned the next night I deliberately waited until after the show before I entered that tent, bowing my head in a customary show of respect I waited for him to greet me before I stepped further in. When he did not I lifted my head and saw that white mask staring at me with amusement shining in his eyes. _

"_And you might be?" he enquired idly, he was leaning against a heavy, object laden, wooden desk. His arms were folded in front of him casually and I realised that he was quite blatantly scrutinising my appearance._

"_Naveed" I started but I could tell by the way his eyes flickered from me momentarily that he had not wanted my name, "I am the daroga of the Mazandara" I informed him. Straightening my back a little and trying to bite back the feeling of inadequacy that washed over me as his eyes once again met mine. The magician was taller than I had anticipated and with that mask on he was in fact quite imposing, I was no stranger to conflict and yet he instilled in me from that first meeting a cautious sense of circumspection. There was a certain authority that exuded from his relaxed stance that worried me beyond reason, especially since then I knew very little about him._

"_You are a long way from home" he observed coolly and it was only then that it occurred to me we were conversing in my native tongue. Even before he had known where I was from, I was so used to speaking it that it had not struck me as strange to hear the familiar inflexions of my beloved Farsi until this very moment. _

"_I have been commissioned to find you. You're reputation far precedes you" I flattered, though if I hoped to appeal to his ego I had failed. _

"_As well it might, I am sure my show did not disappoint. I saw you yesterday in the crowd Daroga, tell me, and did my face precede me also?"_

_I was caught then, unsure whether to lie or venture forth with honestly. I had the strangest feeling that anything I said in response to that question would be the wrong answer; yet remaining silent did not seem like an option either. _

"_The whispers I heard made no mention of your looks."_

"_Then I assume you were greatly surprised, did you think it a trick Daroga, some misfortune of make-up and light?"_

"_No." I replied honestly, keeping my eyes trained on his. I was well aware that he was testing me now, though I wasn't at all sure what the test was for or what I was supposed to gain if I passed. There was no answer forthcoming from behind that mask and I remained silent. If I had thought him civil in that first meeting I would soon learn that he was changeable and often obstinate, I also would learn to infinitely praise the person that saved me from over-stepping my commission on that first night. _

_As she walked in behind me I was not aware until, that is I saw that instead of looking at me, the magician was looking very much passed me. I turned my head as she walked into the tent, blonde ringlets bouncing around her shoulders as she walked. Her hair was fastened with a pin but the unruly mass seemed intent on breaking free, what's more is that she did not seem to mind in the slightest. Now I am not a prudish man, nor am I ignorant to other customs, but I was used to seeing women behind veils, save for my wives naturally. The woman that was now standing a few paces away from the magician was certainly not wearing a veil; her dress was tightly bound with a leather corset that was very much left unfastened at the bust, should I have seen a woman so obviously displaying her level of cleavage back home I would have likely chastised her immediately. The dress looped over her arms and left her shoulders and arms mostly entirely devoid of cover. I just thanked Allah that her legs were covered or I may well have left the tent entirely. _

_The woman must have noticed me staring because she smiled impishly before saying something to the magician in a language I didn't speak. If I was forced to guess I would say Italian, but she looked unlike most Italians I had ever had the fortune of meeting. Dressed as she was in green and brown, eyes darkened with the aid of kohl, she looked more like a traveling gypsy and I wondered if she was merely with the fair and it was only inordinately bad timing on my part that would have be bear witness to her inappropriate apparel. _

_They exchanged a few more words whilst I watched on feeling entirely alienated from the two people in front of me, before I watched her roll her eyes dramatically and walk out of the tent. _

"_What do you want from me?" he asked eventually, _

"_The Shah-in-Shah requests a performance from you."_

"_And you have been sent to acquire me?"_

"_Yes."_

_He chuckled at my reply and I wasn't entirely sure if that was good or bad. _

"_I have never been requested before" he spoke as if the idea amused him greatly, "I have things that require my attention this evening, I will perhaps have a reply for you tomorrow evening." _

_It was only when I was out of the tent and back in my room at the local inn that I realised with some horror there was a very real chance the man would say no. _

_For weeks I continued with this mockery of my position, returning almost nightly to pander and plead to a person I was quite beginning to suspect was a supercilious, egotistical sociopath. Occasionally he might lead me to believe that he was indeed going to concede to my invitation and then just as easily he would change his mind and shut me out for some offense I had quite unwittingly caused him. I found frequently that my only solace in the madness was the quite stable presence of the young woman that hung around him. _

_I was never quite aware of the relationship between the two of them; sometimes he talked to her as if she were a servant solely there for the purpose of pandering to his ego. Sometimes I guessed she was a sort of apprentice, and then on the rarest occasion I caught sight of a rare exchange of looks that left me wondering, impossibly, if there was more to it than I understood. I will confess that I doubted anything romantic purely because of the visage behind the mask, the girl was quite pretty looking if you could get passed her indecent clothing and her seemingly unquenchable desire to flaunt herself. It would be too cruel a fate for her to be tied to some monster, though it had occurred to me that she may well be a paid release for his needs. _

_When he agreed to come with me I was caught quite off guard, the second I walked into the tent I could tell he was in a foul mood and the blonde was nowhere to be found. The magician's temper flared around the room, tangible and horrible, I had expected to be dismissed and certainly not the angry proclamation that he wished to leave tomorrow. _

_I spent the entire night after that wondering what had caused such an abrupt change in his decision making and half expected to arrive the next morning to be laughed at. But when I did arrive he was packed with his own horses and was quite prepared to leave, and more surprisingly so there was no sign of the blonde woman. _

_We travelled for two days with Erik in a foul temper, not speaking and often going off on his own for extended periods of time; this was punctuated by his sudden disappearing act one afternoon. I was beginning to learn this was a habit of his, he often veered off on his own path only to appear a distance ahead of us some time later, chastising us for taking so long. This was different though, after a solid few hours of riding there was neither sight nor sound of the magician and I felt with a sinking dread that we had lost him entirely._


End file.
